Walt Disney High School
by Ms. Sherlock
Summary: A cliche concept with a twist of realism. Does what it says on the tin, but better - an epic story spanning the school year in the life of 30 particular students. The many students of WDHS have different stories and unique personalities, but their stories are all entertwined. Follow these students from early September, through holidays and events to prom and graduation.
1. Ariel, September 6

**Warnings and Things to Know Before You Begin**

I do not accept requests or suggestions for this story. The entire thing is planned out and the only changes to the plan that will be made will be for minor changes such as adding in previously unplanned cameos for characters who enter the picture later (for example, there may be cameos for _Frozen _characters once that movie comes closer to arriving and there is more clarity to what the characters will be like). All the characters, including the most minor ones, will be WDAS (so no Pixar, live action, or other movies outside of the canon such as_ A Goofy Movie_), so that means no OCs. The majority of the pairings will be what is considered "canon," _however _that will not apply for every single one. Flames about pairings will be ignored and you will simply make yourself look ridiculous. Also it should be noted that not all of the pairings that will appear will be endgame. Therefore, if you don't like a pairing, keep in mind that the pair may not make it to the end of the story anyway.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there are some things in this story that may be considered "triggers" by some. I think it is completely pointless to list triggers at the beginning of a story, however, because for the few people it will protect, it will also massively spoil plot elements of the story for those who don't have an issue with it. If you have any triggers that you are concerned about, please don't hesitate to PM me and I can give you warnings about which chapters you might want to be careful with, and then you may choose whether you wish to read the story or not. I am very happy to help with these issues.

That being said... Please enjoy. x Ms. S

* * *

**I.** Ariel, September 6

* * *

Ariel checked her long, red hair one last time in the rearview mirror as the car pulled up to the front doors of the high school. The building was rather ominous, much more like a medieval castle than a typical high school—it was completely different from Ariel's last school. Her family had just moved to a new town and this was the public high school. It looked more like a boarding school than anything. Apparently the building was once a private school that took in only the best students from this town and those surrounding it, but eventually there were simply too many students in the town for the old high school building to accommodate them all, and the town struck a deal with the private school. Now, many years later, there were two public schools in the town, and this was the one Ariel would be going to—Walt Disney High School. She wondered if she would have preferred the other school. This one certainly didn't look too welcoming.

"Work hard today," Ariel's father Triton said, pulling her out of her distracted state. "But have fun, too. Try to meet some nice people."

"I will, Daddy," Ariel said, leaning over and giving her father a kiss on the cheek.

She grabbed her backpack off the floor and stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath, she reached forward and pulled open one of the enormous double doors. Inside was a welcome familiar sight. The lobby of this school was not so different from that of her last. In contrast to the building's cold exterior, the lobby was bustling with activity. Despite the early hour, all the students were excited to be back in school again and were greeting each other with friendly hugs and loud chatter. Ariel approached the closest group to the door timidly. There were three girls talking excitedly. The first was a slender girl with gorgeous, wavy light blonde hair and light skin. The second was also a slender, light-skinned blonde but wore her hair in a bun. Her hair was slightly darker and redder than the first, but she was still undoubtedly blonde. The third girl had jet black hair, and her skin was the fairest of the three. She was not as slight as the other two girls, but in Ariel's opinion she was the most beautiful. Her black hair was short and pushed back with a red headband, which matched her lips—although she didn't appear to be wearing any lipstick.

"Um, hello," Ariel said nervously, not wanting to interrupt the girls.

The first girl looked up at her and Ariel found herself staring into purple irises. She had never seen eyes that color before. The third girl was the first to speak.

"Hello there," she said. Her voice was high and angelic like a child's, but there was some slight maturity to it, and there was a certain wisdom in her brown eyes. "I've never seen you before. Are you a freshman?"

Ariel shook her head, "I'm a sophomore. I just moved here."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you," the black-haired girl said pleasantly. "My name is Snow White, and these are my friends, Aurora Églantine and Cinderella Miroir."

"You can call me Ella," the girl with the bun said. "Most everyone does. Aurora and I are juniors and Snow is a senior."

"I'm Ariel," she said. "Can one of you tell me where I can find the principal's office?"

"Sure, I'll take you there," Snow said, waving goodbye to her two friends. "So how long ago did you move here?"

"Just about a month ago," Ariel said a bit nervously. "What's the principal like?"

"Oh, he's quite awful," Snow said honestly, then put a comforting hand on Ariel's shoulder when the young girl looked at her anxiously. "Oh, but don't worry, you'll do fine. I don't think you have anything to worry about. I'm sure it will just be a quick little meeting, get your schedule and all that—here we are."

The two stopped in front of a door with a plaque on it that read:

Jafar Minpejrabah

Principal

"Don't worry too much. Just stay on his good side and you should be safe."

Ariel couldn't help but gulp, "Safe?"

"Well you've got to watch out," Snow said, looking at Ariel very seriously. "The education here is pretty top-notch, but some of the teachers are just _evil_."

"Is Mr… Min…"

"Min-pez-rah-bah," Snow said slowly as if it were the easiest thing. "Some kids just call him Mr. M or Mr. Jafar, but he doesn't like that, so don't. Say it with me: Minpejrabah."

"Minpejrabah," Ariel repeated, looking to Snow for approval.

"Good," she said, smiling.

"So is… Mr. Minpejrabah evil?"

"Most definitely," Snow said, nodding gravely. "Also watch out for Mr. Frollo, Mr. Ratcliffe—but not Mr. _Rad_cliffe, he's actually quite nice, but he lets students call him by first name anyway. Oh, where was I? Yes. Mr. Frollo, Mr. Ratcliffe, Mr. Hook, Mr. Facilier, Mr. Shan, Mrs. Tremaine, Mrs. Grimhilde, Mrs. Hearts, Ms. de Vil, and Ms. Gothel. Oh, and Mr. Smee likes to _think_ he's evil—he really looks up to Mr. Hook—but he's harmless, honestly."

"Are there any teachers here who _aren't_ evil?" Ariel asked with some concern. "Besides Mr… Radcliffe?"

"Yes, Radcliffe, with a D. Everyone calls him Roger, though," Snow said. "And as for non-evil teachers go… There's Roger, of course—he teaches music. Then there's Roger's wife, Mrs. Radcliffe, who teaches art, and Mr. Porter. Mr. Porter's the biology teacher—he might put you to sleep, but he's harmless otherwise. There are a few others, too—you'll figure it all out eventually."

Ariel nodded, trying to take a mental note of all these names.

"Well, I suppose you should be going in to see Mr. Minpejrabah now," Snow said, giving Ariel a reassuring smile. "Good luck! And don't be a stranger if you see me in the hallway."

"I won't," Ariel assured her as she walked back in the direction of the lobby.

She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door to the office. She heard what sounded like an exasperated sigh and braced herself.

"Come in," an annoyed voice said.

She walked in, ready to apologize, but the man sitting behind the desk in the darkened room spoke first.

"Do you have an appointment?" he asked in a hissing voice, twirling his thin, black beard around his index finger.

"Um, no, I—"

"You must be the new girl," he said, squinting at Ariel in a bored way—she found herself wondering why he kept the lights so low. All she could come up with was dramatic effect.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "My name is Ariel Af—"

"I know your name, silly girl, sit down," he said, flicking through some pages in a folder as Ariel took a seat uncomfortably across from him. "So, Ariel Afhavet. Your father is Triton Afhavet… six sisters, oh my. And your mother?"

"She died," Ariel said, trying to swallow her nerves.

"I see," Mr. Minpejrabah said, jotting something down. "Alright then. This packet has everything you'll be needing. Your class schedule is on top, and it also includes a map of the school and a temporary ID card. You'll need to go to the room number I've circled on the map after school is finished today in order to get your picture taken for the permanent ID. That is all. Now please leave my office."

Ariel took the folder, nodded, said thank you, and rushed out of the office. In the hallway, she checked the first class on the schedule then tried to interpret the map. She looked around the hall, trying to orient herself on the map, but didn't see room numbers by any of the doors. A bell rang and people began bustling quickly through the hall. Ariel looked about nervously. Being late for her first class ever would be embarrassing. That was not a good first impression to make.

"You look lost."

Ariel nearly jumped up, startled, but quickly composed herself. The girl who had spoken was standing next to her. She had beautiful dark skin and had her black hair pulled back into a messy bun. A few strands of curly hair fell around her face. She gave Ariel a warm smile.

"Are you new?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ariel said a bit sheepishly, pushing an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. "And definitely very lost."

"Let me see your schedule," the girl said, and Ariel handed it over. "I'm Tiana by the way—you can call me Tia."

"Nice to meet you, Tia," Ariel said, feeling better. "I'm Ariel."

"Ah, this is perfect!" Tiana said. "Biology with Mr. Porter—I've got that now too. It's in room… 302. Come on."

Ariel followed Tiana, feeling relieved. This girl seemed like someone she could _definitely _become friends with. Ariel followed her up two flights of stairs and down several hallways until they finally reached a rather large classroom with several two-person desks arranged in a rectangle so that everyone would be sat facing each other. Around the perimeter of the room were a variety of intriguing objects including fish tanks, animal skulls, a replica of a human skeleton, and some potted plants. Ariel looked around with interest as they entered the room. Tiana found an empty desk and invited Ariel to share it with her, which she did gladly.

"So what's Mr. Porter like?" Ariel asked quietly, in case the teacher suddenly walked in. "He's one of the nice ones, right?"

"The nice ones?" Tiana laughed. "Oh, so you've already heard about our epidemic of evil teachers?"

"Yeah," Ariel said, wondering if it had just been an exaggeration—although based solely on the principal, she was starting to doubt that possibility.

"Yeah, Mr. Porter's a nice one," Tia said. "From what I've heard, he's old and a bit out of touch, but he's got the best intentions."

The bell rang again just as a short old man bustled into the room, briefcase in hand. He set the briefcase down on the floor and straightened his bowtie. The man had a white mustache so large and bushy that one could not see his mouth, accompanied by large, bushy gray eyebrows. The top of his head, however, was bald, and he only had some white hair tufting from the back of his head. He fumbled with a piece of chalk and wrote across the blackboard as high as he could (which was arguably not very high):

ARCHIMEDES Q. PORTER

He wrote it in large, capital letters then set the chalk down and turned to address the class, wiping his hands together in a cloud of white dust.

"Hello!" he said. "Welcome to sophomore biology. Well, _most_ of you are sophomores."

He eyed one black-haired student who was sitting directly across from Ariel and Tiana. Ariel's eyes locked on him immediately. She hadn't noticed any guys yet at the school, but _this _guy… She was sure she had never seen anyone so good-looking in her life. She shook herself out of it.

"Well, Eric," Mr. Porter sighed, shaking his head. "I'm glad to have you back in my class, despite the circumstances. I'm sure you'll do better this time."

"I'll certainly try, Mr. Porter," the boy—Eric—said.

"I suppose I should start by taking attendance!" Mr. Porter said, opening his briefcase on a desk and pulling out a sheet of paper. "Ariel Afhavet?"

"Here," Ariel said quietly, waving.

Ariel and Tia chatted through the attendance until Mr. Porter reached Tia's name.

"Tiana Grenouille?" he said, and she raised her hand. "Charlotte La Bouff? Ms. La Bouff?"

There was no response, and Tiana looked around the room.

"I didn't know Lottie was in this class," she said, more to herself than to Ariel. "Where _is _she?"

"No Charlotte?" Mr. Porter asked. "Going once, going twice—"

The door to the classroom burst open and a girl with large blonde hair dressed all in pink rushed in.

"I'm here, I'm here!" she panted. "Sorry I'm late, I ran into the most _darling _boy in the hallway—literally ran into him, dropped all my things—he helped me gather them up, of course, perfect gentleman, but that's why I'm late. I'm Charlotte La Bouff, I don't know if you've taken attendance already or—?"

"I'm just taking it now, Ms. La Bouff," Mr. Porter said, checking the name off his list. "I'll ignore your tardiness today since it's the first day, but do try to be on time tomorrow."

"Oh, of _course_," the girl said, waving a hand through the air. "I am _so _sorry to burst in like this—I'll sit down now."

Ariel got the feeling this girl liked being the center of attention, no matter what kind of attention it was. The girl looked around the room quickly until her eyes settled on Tiana, who was looking up at her. She walked over and took the empty seat on Tia's other side.

"Hi Tia," she whispered rather loudly. "It is so good to see you—I had no _idea_ you were in this class."

"I didn't know you were either," Tia said. "Ariel, this is my friend Lottie. Lottie, this is Ariel—she's new."

"Ariel, it is _so _nice to meet you," Lottie said, putting a hand across Tia to shake Ariel's hand. "My, your hair is just _gorgeous_."

"Thank you," Ariel said, blushing.

"Where did you move from?" Lottie asked, batting her long, dark eyelashes and feigning an interested expression—Ariel assumed the interest was feigned or at least exaggerated, as it seemed this girl made a show of everything.

"Okay," Mr. Porter said loudly, trying to get the class's attention since he'd finished the attendance. "I'm sure many of you are familiar with Vanessa Bedrageri."

Ariel noticed for the first time a girl with long, dark brown hair standing in the corner. The girl stepped forward as Mr. Porter waved her to the front of the room.

"Ms. Bedrageri is a senior this year and intends to major in marine biology in college," Mr. Porter explained. "As such, I have decided to take her on as an assistant for this class as a sort of independent study-internship-thing. So Ms. Bedrageri will be assisting me in teaching this class. She will mostly be helping to grade papers and assisting you all with your labs and such. If you have questions before or after class, I'm sure Ms. Bedrageri will be able to assist you quite sufficiently. Now, if you could hand out the syllabi on my desk…?"

Ariel watched as Vanessa picked up the pile of syllabuses and began handing them out. She handed one to Eric then brushed a hand across his shoulder as she passed behind him to the next student. It was subtle and fairly quick, but Ariel caught it, and she certainly didn't like it. She narrowed her eyes at Vanessa. When she had returned to the front of the room, Tia leaned over to Ariel.

"Something about her rubs me the wrong way," she whispered.

"Oh, thank god," Ariel whispered back. "I thought it was just me."

"She's just kind of… creepy," Tiana said.

Ariel nodded. It wasn't the main reason why she immediately disliked her, but she wasn't going to tell Tiana that the subtle touch had irked her so much. And Vanessa _was _a bit creepy. Something about the way she leered at the room made Ariel's spine tingle. Vanessa's presence almost made Ariel glad when the class was over… Almost. But she was glad she'd have the opportunity to ogle Eric and chat with Tia again the next day. And the day after that.

"Where are you off to now?" Tiana asked, as they walked out into the hallway.

"Umm," Ariel said, fumbling to unfold her schedule, which she had folded into a triangle while gazing absently at Eric. "English with… Ms. Gothel. Room 315?"

"Ouch," Tia said. "Good luck with that one. I've got culinary with Ms. Odie. 315 is down that way—you can't miss it."

"Right. Thanks so much," Ariel said.

"No problem!" Tiana said. "And wait—let me give you my number in case you need anything."

She scribbled it down quickly in the corner of Ariel's schedule.

"Great," Ariel said with a smile. "See you tomorrow!"

She turned and skipped off towards English, glad to have made a friend.


	2. Tiana, September 6

**II.** Tiana, September 6

* * *

Tiana hurried excitedly down the stairs to the basement level of the palatial WDHS building, where the culinary classrooms were, along with other vocational classrooms. She was signed up for the introductory culinary class. She would have taken the class last year, but it was a popular class and had filled up quickly. She hoped next year to be able to sign up for the two-year culinary program the school offered. Cooking was Tia's passion, what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She knew that doing well in the advanced high school culinary classes would help her get into a university with an esteemed culinary program.

She hurried into the room just as the bell rang and took the only empty stool left. She found herself sitting next to a somewhat ambiguous-looking guy with black hair and mid-toned skin. He flashed her a charming smile. Tia rolled her eyes. She wasn't quite as easy to impress as most girls.

"Hello class," a stout old woman wearing small, circular sunglasses said, raising her arms to get everyone's attention. "I'm Ms. Odie, but y'all can call me Mama."

She continued her introduction to the class and then took attendance. As it turned out, the smiley guy was Naveen Maldon. Tia should have realized this. His reputation preceded him. The guitar-playing Naveen went around charming every girl in the school, but he never seemed to go on more than one date with any of them. He was most certainly what one might consider a "player." Tia very much looked forward to _not _letting him work his charms over her. Mama announced that everyone would be partnering up with whomever they had sat next to, and would be cooking with them for the duration of the class. Tia stifled a groan.

_This should be interesting, _Tiana thought, looking over at Naveen, who once again flashed his pearly whites.

She couldn't help but guffaw, "Okay, you're gonna _have _to stop doing that."

Naveen looked troubled, obviously disturbed that his boyish face wasn't serving its normal function, "Doing what?"

"That cheesy smile thing," Tia said. "Seriously, do girls actually fall for that?"

Naveen crossed his arms.

"Aha," Tia said. "I take it from your pout that you're not used to rejection."

"I'm not pouting," he said defensively.

"Sulking, then," Tia said.

"I am _not _sulking!" he said.

"You two! Do I need to separate you?" Mama asked.

"No," Tia and Naveen said in unison, then looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Mama.

Mama handed out instructions for a simple soup, basically a pretest to see what level the different students were at as far as cooking skills. Tia quickly found that Naveen was hopeless. He accidentally added sugar to the soup instead of salt and didn't know a single word of simple cooking terminology. Tia wound up forcing him to step aside and took over, starting the soup over from scratch after the sugar fiasco and still finishing before any other group. Mama came over to sample the soup. She took a ladle and sipped a bit of soup tentatively.

"My!" she said in a tone that Tia wasn't sure of at first. "Why Tiana, this soup is simply _de_lightful. I couldn't have made it better myself! I had nothing else prepared for the class, so if you'd like, you and your partner may leave early."

"Thank you, Ms. Odie," Tia said, gathering her things.

"Mama," she corrected.

"Right. Mama," Tia nodded, then headed out of the room, ignoring the other students' contemptuous looks.

"Hey, wait up!" Naveen said, catching up to Tia. "Have you got a problem with me, or—"

"No, I don't have a problem with you," Tiana said, continuing to walk down the hall, eyes forward, not looking at Naveen. "Just… if you think you're going to be able to charm me like you've charmed every other girl in this school, you've got another thing coming, mister."

Naveen looked taken aback, "I—"

"Don't bother," Tiana said, waving a dismissive hand. "I know what you were trying to do."

"Well, I'm sorry if I offended you," Naveen said. "Where are you headed to? May I join you?"

"No," Tiana said, somewhat abruptly.

"No? And why not?"

"Because—I'm going—to the ladies' room," Tiana said, spotting the restrooms up ahead and an escape.

"Well, where are you going after that? I'll wait," Naveen said, following her up to the bathroom door.

"Um, I'm—" Tiana looked around somewhat frantically—Naveen could see her panicking, though he couldn't quite figure out why. She wasn't quite sure herself. "I'm going to be a while. I need to, um, freshen up my makeup!"

She let out a nervous laugh and began pushing the door open.

"Wait," Naveen said, and she hesitated. "At least tell me—can we be partners in cooking class from now on? I know I'm not very good, but… I do want to learn and it seems like you have a lot you could teach me."

"Um, yeah, sure," Tiana said, quickly pushing the door open. "Goodbye!"

Door closed, she turned and leaned against it, exhaling. What was _that _all about? She could not let this guy work his charms on her. She just _couldn't_. She wasn't the kind of girl who fell for stuff like that. But sure, she could be his cooking partner—after all, Ms. Odie had said that their partners would be lasting for the duration of the class anyway. And maybe they could even be friends. But truly, she didn't want anything more. She didn't want a guy like him, anyway. If a guy was going to flirt with her, he'd better mean it—and she knew with Naveen she was just the next girl in a very long line of flirtations and short-term "girlfriends." And she wouldn't have that. She nodded to herself assuredly, feeling confident once again.

"Um, excuse me?"

Tiana looked up—it was a gorgeous girl with her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a plain blue dress and clutching her textbooks to her chest, looking somewhat concerned.

"Yes?" Tiana said.

"You're, um—"

"Oh!" Tiana said, leaping away from the door she was blocking. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," the girl said, waving a hand in the air. "I get lost in my daydreams _all _the time."

Tiana smiled at the girl and nodded.

Of course she didn't _really_ have to go to the bathroom, and she didn't bring any makeup with her to school. She milled around by the sinks for a few minutes, just to make sure Naveen had gone, and then headed back outside to go to the library and wait for her next class.

* * *

Tiana lay on her bed, listening to Lottie babble on and on somewhat inanely. She mumbled "mm-hmms" and "yeahs" occasionally to give the impression that she was listening as she paged through a kitchen magazine, looking for new recipes to try. Occasionally Lottie would squeal about something and Tiana would pay closer attention, but mostly Lottie was just retelling old stories with more embellishment.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," Lottie said. "Now you just _have _to listen to this—Tia, _listen_ to this. _Really_."

"Okay, okay, I'm listening," Tiana said, closing the magazine.

"Okay so—you listening?—so… you remember how I was late for biology, don't you? Of course you do," she said, not giving Tiana any chance to answer. "So I ran into this boy—"

"Yes, you'd said that," Tiana said, yawning quietly so Lottie wouldn't hear—not that she was paying any attention, probably.

"Yes, well, he was absolutely _gorgeous_—and so charming—and just, ugh, _per_fect!" Lottie squealed. "If I had him as a date, I would _definitely _be Prom Queen."

"Lottie—you're a sophomore," Tiana said, rolling her eyes but smiling at her friend's enthusiasm.

"A girl can dream, can't she? And I've got to plan ahead!" Lottie said. "Anyway, he's a senior, so of course we'd go to the senior prom together, and—can sophomores be elected for Prom Queen if they go to the senior prom?"

"I don't think so, Lottie," Tia chuckled. "I think that honor is reserved for _seniors_. Anyway, I bet Snow White will be Prom Queen—she deserves it, anyway. She's gorgeous and popular, yeah, but she's also a total sweetheart."

"Yeah," Lottie said, followed by a rare pause. "Hmm, maybe I should go to Snow for some advice. Her and Prince have been dating for _ages_, haven't they? I've heard she's great with love advice… I bet she could give me some tips on having a boyfriend in college, and—"

"Lottie, aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? Do you even know this guy's name yet?"

"Oh!" Lottie exclaimed. "I didn't tell you his name? Oh, that's the _best _part! It's _Naveen_!"

Tia sat up. Well this was certainly an… intriguing development.

"Naveen Maldon?"

"Yes! Isn't that wonderful?" Lottie gushed. "I'd never met him before today but I'd heard so much—he's _super _popular. Have you ever met him? I mean, tell me the boy isn't an absolute _dream_!"

"I have met him, actually," Tia said. "Today… for the first time."

"Is he in one of your classes?" Lottie asked. "Oh, I am _so _jealous."

"He's in my cooking class," Tiana said.

"Oh, a boy who likes to cook!" Lottie said. "I can just see it now—me, sitting in the kitchen after we're married while he—"

"He's a lousy cook, actually," Tiana said. "We're partners."

"Well, you'll teach him your wonderful ways—_partners_? Oh my god, Tia, this is wonderful!" Lottie practically screamed.

"It is?" Tiana asked, failing to see what was so wonderful about it.

"Yes!" Lottie squealed. "You could get to know him, become friends, earn his trust—and set us up together! Well, I'll probably have made a move before all that happens but, just in case—backup plan!"

"Yeah, okay, Lottie…" Tia said, rolling her eyes.

Lottie was clearly about to launch into another rant when Tia's phone beeped. She looked at it—Ariel was calling.

"Hey, Lottie, I've got Ariel calling, can we talk tomorrow?"

"Oh, sure," Lottie said. "You know me, I'd talk your ear off if you didn't stop me. Ta-ta!"

"Bye Lottie," Tiana said, and switched over to Ariel. "Ariel!"

"Hi," Ariel said somewhat shyly.

"How'd the rest of your day go?" Tia asked.

"It was alright I guess," Ariel said, and Tiana could practically hear her shrug. "How was yours?"

Tiana told Ariel about cooking class, Naveen, and her escape to the bathroom. Ariel laughed when Tia told her about Naveen's salt/sugar mix-up.

"So—any funny stories on your end?" Tiana asked. "Or… any guys you're interested in? I just got off the phone with Lottie, who's already planning to go to prom with Naveen."

"But it's only September!" Ariel exclaimed, laughing. "Wait—so are they dating?"

"No, they just met today for the first time—right before Bio, that was the guy she ran into," Tia laughed. "But yeah, she's a bit overzealous."

"So… are _you_ interested in him?" Ariel asked.

"What? Who?" Tiana asked.

"Naveen!" Ariel said.

"Naveen? No. No _way_," Tiana said. "Totally _not _my type."

"If you say so…" Ariel said.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Tiana asked.

"Just… the way you talk about him… oh, never mind," Ariel said.

"Believe me, I am _so _not interested in Naveen Maldon," Tiana said. "So how about you? You never answered my question! Evasive much?"

"Okay, okay," Ariel said. "So there was a guy I thought was cute—but it's _only _the first day, so obviously I don't know a lot about him… and I haven't gotten a look at many of the guys around the school…"

"Oh, just spill!" Tiana said, intensely interested and happy that Ariel seemed to be fitting in pretty well already—well, as well as _anyone _could really "fit in" in high school.

"Okay, so… In Bio…"

"Ooh, it's somebody in Bio? Sorry, I'll shut up…"

"Do you know that guy, um… Eric?"

"Ooh, Eric Sømand?" Tiana said. "Yup, he is a cutie—good taste, girl! Hm… yeah, you guys would totally make a cute couple."

"You think?" Ariel asked, voice brightening—then she sounded a bit disappointed. "I could never work up the courage to talk to him, though. And that Vanessa girl seemed pretty… touchy-feely with him. Are they an item or—?"

"Vanessa and Eric? Hmm, I haven't heard anything," Tiana said. "But she did seem to be lingering near him for most of the class in that creepy way of hers."

"God, she was _so _creepy," Ariel laughed. "I'm so glad you brought it up first… She just gave me the creeps. Ick."

They talked about Vanessa, then went on to other topics and exchanged stories from the day, but it all came back to Eric eventually.

"So, what do you know about him?" Ariel asked.

"Not too much," Tiana said. "Obviously he's a junior—I'm sure you caught that—and… He's pretty popular—good looks and all that—but I've heard he's super nice and friendly. You should just try talking to him one day! I'm sure he wouldn't mind at all. And you're gorgeous, girl, you just have to own it."

"Thanks," Ariel said bashfully, then sighed. "I don't know. I really _want _to talk to him, but… the thought of it just makes my legs feel like jelly."

"I know that feeling," Tia said.

"Really? You interested in somebody?" Ariel asked, a tone of suggestion in her voice—clearly implying that that "somebody" might be none other than one Naveen Maldon.

"No—no, not _that_ somebody," Tiana said. "Actually I'm not interested in anyone at all at the moment. Well, I'm sure I'll develop my yearly crush pretty soon."

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Ariel asked.

"No—haven't really had time," Tiana said, then added quickly, "not that anyone's asked me, anyway."

"Yeah, me neither," Ariel said. "But I didn't have very many close friends at my last school, either."

"Well, I'm glad you ran into me," Tia said. "I can already tell we're going to be good friends."

"Yeah," Ariel said. "I'm glad I ran into you, too. I should get going on this homework…"

"Yeah, I've got some, too," Tiana said, glancing at the clock on her phone—it was getting pretty late; they'd been talking for a while. "It was really great talking to you—I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, for sure," Ariel said brightly.

Tiana hung up the phone and flopped back down on her bed. It already looked like this year was going to be a pretty good one.


	3. Belle, September 7

**III.** Belle, September 7

* * *

Belle's alarm clock buzzed. She reached over and turned it off, then sat up in bed. A brand new day—the second day of school. Yesterday had been… admittedly somewhat bizarre. But it wasn't necessarily bad. She sighed, looking around her room. The house she and her father shared was somewhat small, but her room had everything she could ever ask for—shelf after shelf of books. She was surrounded by bookshelves on all sides, filled mostly with books she had read several times. She always bought her books cheap—at used bookstores and warehouse sales and such places—but because of this, she was able to have a multitude of fabulous worlds in which to escape. There was one large window directly across from her bed and the sun was beginning to shine through it as she threw the covers back, stretched her arms toward the ceiling, and headed for the closet.

As she contemplated her limited options, her mind drifted towards the events of yesterday. The first class of the day had been the most interesting… Literature with Mrs. Tremaine. Mrs. Tremaine was well-known for being horrible, but Belle still looked forward to the class, if only for the opportunity to be exposed to new books or to read old favorites. The class certainly had an interesting cast of characters, if nothing else.

The first person Belle had recognized in the class was Jasmine Evlahmenaultan, WDHS resident "slut," a title known to everyone, apparently, except for her poor, somewhat naïve boyfriend Aladdin. Belle felt bad for him. No one had the heart to tell him, but everyone knew Jasmine was sleeping around. Of course, there was nothing wrong with being promiscuous in itself—and Belle held objections to the term "slut"—but cheating wasn't really excusable. Jasmine hadn't always been that way. It seemed like it began to happen towards the end of last year—Belle's sophomore year, and Jasmine's junior year. Jasmine and Aladdin had been together for a pretty long time—perhaps Jasmine had gotten bored. Maybe her obnoxiously long and unpronounceable last name had finally driven her mad. Oh well. Belle felt she couldn't judge someone without knowing the whole situation anyway. Jasmine was a senior, as were all the other members of the class. Belle was enrolled in the senior English literature class, having qualified to skip ahead—freshman year, she took sophomore English because she had read all the assigned books for freshman English, so she had always been a year ahead.

Also in the class was Gaston Viril, or as Belle liked to call him in her head—albeit somewhat dramatically—the bane of her existence. Gaston was a big, muscular senior—star of the football team and all that. He'd been after Belle since she first accidentally caught his eye, but she was absolutely _not _interested. Gaston was a complete and total brute and could probably single-handedly set feminism back fifty years just by opening his mouth. He was positively primeval and the complete opposite of a gentleman. Belle didn't even like _looking _at him she was so repulsed by him. Some other guys from the football team were in the class, too—Phoebus Chevalier, Kocoum Algonquin, Shang Li, and Tarzan Simius. It was as if they had scheduled their classes all together. None of the other guys were as bad as Gaston, and Belle actually liked a lot of them. In fact, none of them seemed to like Gaston all that much, and often shot him down whenever he made some horrible remark.

The last notable person in the class was a boy named Adam Bête. He was mainly notable because Belle couldn't remember ever having seen him before. He wasn't new, so surely she must have passed him at some point in the hallways or something, but he had somehow escaped her notice up until this point. He seemed strange to Belle—maybe just because he was a novelty. He had long, light reddish-brown hair and wore a t-shirt for a band Belle had never heard of. He had carried an acoustic guitar case with him to class yesterday. Belle had sat across the classroom from him the first day, but she was determined that today she would sit next to him and find out more about him.

She picked a green dress from the closet—she preferred dresses to two-piece outfits. It just seemed simpler. Humming a song, she slipped into the dress and twirled her way down into the kitchen, where her father was sitting, reading the paper.

"Good morning," she chirped, kissing him on the head.

"Oh, uh, good morning, Belle!" he said distractedly, apparently not having noticed her until she was right next to him.

Belle grabbed a cereal bar off the counter and said goodbye to her father, grabbing her messenger bag off the floor and heading out the door. She didn't have time to make any breakfast, but the cereal bar would do. She grabbed her bike from the side of the house and pushed off toward school. She loved her morning bike rides to school—the feel of the wind on her face made the ride seem much more exciting than it would have on a school bus or in a car. Though her books could temporarily fill her appetite for adventure, she still wished she could experience something like that in real life.

She parked her bike in the rack and pushed some stray hairs away from her face, fixing her hair into a loose ponytail. She checked her old flip cell phone for the time. She had a few minutes before class started, but not enough time to make any stops along the way to the classroom. The number one goal today would be to avoid the torment of Gaston.

_Yeah, right, _she thought. _I'll be lucky if I can avoid him for five whole minutes._

"Belle!"

She sighed heavily. Not even in the classroom yet, and already she couldn't avoid him. He was hanging out the door of the classroom, shouting down the hall to her.

"When are you going to let me take you out—show you a good time?" Gaston shouted.

"Gaston, I'm positive your idea of a good time is absolutely _not _compatible with mine," Belle said, pushing past him as best she could to get inside the classroom.

"Come on, Belle," Gaston said, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her to him from behind. "We both _know _where this is all leading—I know you want me. Everyone wants _me_."

"Well I _don't_," Belle said, struggling against his admittedly strong arms. "Let _go _of me, Gaston!"

"Hey, leave the girl alone, Gaston," Shang said as he entered the classroom. "Clearly she wants nothing to do with you."

"How do you know what she wants?" Gaston said, putting his face in her hair.

That was it—Belle didn't want Gaston's disgusting, greasy face touching her head. She jabbed him as hard as she could with her elbow. His chest was pretty firm, but it must have hurt at least a little bit because he loosened his grip and made a small noise of pain as she wriggled away.

"I could get you kicked off the team for that behavior," Shang threatened.

"You must be joking," Gaston guffawed. "With Hook as our Captain, we can do anything we want. You know it. I know it. So why not take advantage of it?"

He went to grab Belle's arm, but Shang shoved him away. Shang was strong, but considerably smaller than Gaston. Gaston could definitely take him. Easily. Belle was impressed—she didn't know Shang very well at all, but she felt instant respect for him.

"Just because you _can _be a jerk doesn't mean you _should _be," Shang said. "But clearly your cause is helpless—you'll always be an asshole, Gaston."

Gaston made a grotesque snorting noise at Shang, but backed off and went to take a seat. Shang turned to Belle.

"Are you alright, Ms.—?"

"Oh, please just call me Belle," she smiled. "And yes. Fine."

"Ah, Belle, yes," Shang said. "You're a junior, aren't you?"

"Yeah… skipped a year of English, kind of a long story," Belle said.

Shang nodded, "Smart, then. Well, it was good to meet you, Belle."

"You too," Belle said, returning his smile.

The bell rang. Mrs. Tremaine wasn't in the classroom yet, but everyone began to take their seats anyway. Belle looked around the room. There was Adam, sitting in the same back corner seat he had sat in the day before, isolated from everyone else in the class. Belle marched over and sat in the seat right next to him. He looked over at her warily and she gave him a kind smile. He didn't say anything. She waited a couple moments.

"Hi, I'm Belle," she said.

He looked up at her for a moment, then looked back down at the crumpled schedule on his desk and sort of grunted. Okay. At least he didn't ignore her.

"So… got a name?" she asked, even though she knew—just making conversation however possible.

He pushed his schedule over where she could see his name printed at the top. She sighed.

"What, can't you talk?" she asked, somewhat exasperatedly.

He shot her an angry look and grumbled harshly, "Of course I can talk."

Belle rolled her eyes and looked away—clearly this guy didn't want to talk to her. And he had some temper. She could see Gaston pointing in her general direction, whispering to another brutish boy and snickering. She didn't even want to imagine what he could be saying. She pretended not to even notice. She wouldn't give Gaston the pleasure of knowing she was upset. It would only feed his unstoppable ego.

Mrs. Tremaine walked into the classroom with the same sour look on her face that she had had the day before—and every day Belle had ever seen her. She had thick, gray hair and a slender face with black, arched eyebrows that appeared to have been penciled on. Apparently the two Tremaine girls—Anastasia, a sophomore, and Drizella, a senior, were her daughters. Belle hadn't heard this from any particularly reliable source, but it was certainly believable. Anastasia and Drizella were both extremely unpleasant girls who made a habit of making everyone around them miserable, much like Mrs. Tremaine. Supposedly Cinderella Miroir, who was in Belle's year, was Mrs. Tremaine's step-daughter, but Belle didn't know if there was any truth to it. She had spoken to Cinderella a couple of times but didn't know her very well at all.

"Hello class," Mrs. Tremaine said flatly as she dropped some books onto her desk rather loudly and began rifling through some papers. She paused for a moment, looking at something she had written. "Which one of you is Belle Lumineux?"

"That's me, ma'am," Belle said, raising her hand nervously.

Mrs. Tremaine rolled up the paper she had been holding and walked slowly over to Belle's desk, tapping her free hand with the paper. She stopped and looked down at Belle with her piercing gaze.

"This is your eleventh year of school, is that correct?" Mrs. Tremaine said quietly, but loud enough for the rest of the class to hear.

"Well, yes, I—"

"So you're a junior," Mrs. Tremaine interrupted.

"Well, I'm—"

"Answer the question."

More than anything, Belle wanted to melt into the chair and disappear underneath the desk, never to be seen or heard from again. But she stayed sitting up straight, practically frozen from nerves.

"Yes," Belle said, barely audible.

"And are you aware, Ms. Lumineux…" Mrs. Tremaine tapped the desk with the rolled-up paper, "that being a 'Senior Lit' class, this is a class for students in their _senior _year at this school?"

"Yes, but—"

A few students snickered.

"Silence!" Mrs. Tremaine glared around the classroom. "What on earth do you think you're doing in a class that is clearly beyond your level?"

Belle felt a spring of anger bubbling up, but did her best to keep herself calm—just because she happened to be a year _younger _than the average member of the class didn't mean that the class was above her mental capacity. Still, she resisted the urge to give a snappy remark, knowing that would only get her into trouble.

"I was allowed to take sophomore English my freshman year because I had read all the freshman English books," Belle said as calmly as she could muster.

"Oh, an overachiever," Mrs. Tremaine said with faux delight, tapping the paper against her hand. "And why didn't you just _wait_ to take that English class your sophomore year and not have an English class your freshman year?"

"I…" Belle hadn't been expecting this interrogation, so she felt completely unprepared and assaulted. She looked around the room and immediately wished she hadn't. Seeing all those faces staring at her was not helpful. "My guidance counselor told me to… I thought maybe I'd take AP Lit next year. I really like English literature, so I thought—"

"Sucking up will not do you any good in this class," Mrs. Tremaine said, giving the desk one last firm tap with the paper roll before heading back towards her desk. "Shame on you. I suppose there's nothing we can do about it now; you'll just have to stay in the class. But don't expect any special treatment from me just because you're younger."

Belle thought of several things she might say to defend herself, but figured it would be best to keep her mouth shut and lay low.

Mrs. Tremaine droned on for a few minutes then passed out a worksheet and announced that everyone was to work in groups of two, and no more than two, and that if you couldn't find a partner on your own then you could work alone. The worksheet, she said, would be due at the end of class and would count as a test grade. No extra time would be given. Belle took a look at the worksheet. She could do it pretty easily herself, but she saw an opportunity.

"Hey, Adam," she said, forcing a smile as she looked over at him. "Want to work together?"

"I can do it alone," Adam said.

Belle glanced at his worksheet. He had his name written at the top, and nothing else. He clearly was unsure of where to even start.

"You can brood all you want in your next class," Belle said, standing up, picking her desk up, and moving it over next to Adam's, "but right now, you're going to work with me—and that's final. No arguing, and you're not going to change my mind just by being rude."

Adam looked stunned for a moment, but didn't respond. Well, that was some manner of success. Belle smiled to herself and took a pencil out, and started a conversation.

* * *

By lunchtime, Belle was still thinking about English class. Things with Adam had been… interesting. At first he had basically been non-responsive, but eventually she had gotten him to have a somewhat stilted discussion with her in an effort to answer the questions. Any small negative feedback from Belle, though, and he would just shut down. In the end, she wound up quickly filling out both worksheets in the last ten minutes of class. They would both get As for sure—unless Mrs. Tremaine let her unfair bias against Belle influence her grading—but Belle felt it was largely undeserved on Adam's part. Oh well. She had tried. It was an experiment. She knew better than to try to go there again. Maybe tomorrow she would sit by Shang. He seemed nice.

_Wham_. Belle collided with another girl, who was carrying a lunch tray. Luckily Belle caught the tray and nothing was spilled—crisis averted. Still, she felt her face reddening. She looked at the girl she had smashed into.

"Oh, hey!" Belle said. "Daydream girl."

"Ex…cuse me?" the girl gave Belle a strange look.

"Yesterday. In the bathroom. You were blocking the door," Belle said, and a look of recognition, then embarrassment, washed over the other girl's face. "I told you I did it sometimes, too. Now we're even."

"Oh… yeah… sorry about that," she said awkwardly.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, I almost just spilled pasta all over you," Belle said amicably.

"I might be better off with it on my shirt than in my stomach, come to think of it."

They both laughed.

"I'm Belle," she said.

"Tia."

"Are you sitting with anyone?" Belle asked.

"Yeah, a couple of my friends—Lottie and Ariel—over there," Tia said. "There's a seat free, you're totally welcome to join us if you want."

"I'd love to," Belle said with a smile. "I'll go get some food and see you over there."

"Great," Tia said. "I'll save you a seat."

* * *

Belle sat in a comfy chair in the library after school, working on homework. Homework never seemed as bad when she could completely surround herself with books while doing it. She was just finishing a math problem when she saw a girl looking around confusedly. She walked up to the map that hung next to one of the library doors and stared at it hopelessly. She was pretty short—she was surely a freshman. She had long blonde hair pushed back from her face by a black ribbon that served as a headband. Definitely straight out of middle school. Belle put her homework in her bag, slung it over her shoulder and approached the girl.

"Need help?" Belle asked.

"Oh my goodness, I am terribly lost," the girl said sweetly and innocently.

"Freshman?" The girl nodded. "I'll help you out. Where are you going?"

The girl was looking for the ID services office, having already lost her ID card—poor thing. Such administrative offices were in the basement by the vocational classes. Belle escorted her all the way there, knowing how confusing the palatial school could be to a new student. Of course, everyone had been a freshman at one point—it seemed like a lot of the upperclassmen quickly forgot about that fact.

"Thank you so very much!" the girl said with an awkward curtsy-like movement before slipping into the office.

Belle felt good, having done her good deed for the day. She turned, thinking she should head home now, when she heard the sound of a guitar faintly. She looked both ways down the hall, then headed towards the sound and away from the exit. As the sound of the guitar became louder, she heard a voice accompanying the guitar. She couldn't make out the words until she was right by the door to the chorus room. Most of the students had left the school by this time and occasionally someone would go into the chorus room to practice music if it wasn't welcome at home or just because they had time to spare. She didn't want whoever it was to see her, lest they stop playing. She stood by the door and just listened for a few moments.

The lyrics were not great—clearly this was an original song, presumably written by the singer—but the tune was great, and the guy was clearly talented. Belle had to know who it was—just a peek. She peered through the glass window in the door and stopped—it was Adam, sitting on a platform, strumming his acoustic guitar. The case was off to the side on the floor and he was alone in the room. Belle forgot everything and just stood looking into the room. Adam suddenly looked up and saw her there. Belle gasped and did the first thing her body could think to do—she ran to the exit as fast as she could, grabbed her bike from the rack, and pushed off towards home, wind against her face.


	4. Alice, September 8

**IV.** Alice, September 8

* * *

It was a gorgeous day. It was as if Mother Nature hadn't been alerted that it was fall now and she needed to stop tempting the students with gorgeous summer weather. Many of the teachers had opened the classroom windows to let the warm fresh air waft in. First class of the day, Alice Liddell found this particularly distracting… She could hear the birds chirping and could even smell the freshly cut grass on the school's front lawn. She propped her elbow on the desk and rested her cheek on her hand, staring out at the trees that were swaying back and forth slowly in the light breeze. A butterfly fluttered right outside the window.

Of course Alice didn't notice that Mr. Ratcliffe was now standing directly in front of her desk. He cleared his throat and she jumped a little, then looked up at him. He gazed down at her over his rather large nose and stroked his goatee.

"Ms… Liddell, isn't it?" he asked, and she nodded, folding her hands together on her desk and swallowing nervously. "Can _you _answer the question? You _do _know what the question is, don't you?"

"Um, no sir," Alice said quietly. "I hadn't been listening."

"Pity," Mr. Ratcliffe said. "Well, I'll give you a chance anyway. I asked the class for the answer to the third homework question… It would probably be in your best interest to get the homework out."

"I—I didn't do the homework," Alice said, looking down at her hands on her desk.

"And why not?" Mr. Ratcliffe snarled.

"Well, I… I suppose I simply forgot," Alice hoped he would move on—she was embarrassed enough.

"Forgot? Barely started high school and you're already forgetting homework—yes, I can see your future is not going to be very bright at all," Mr. Ratcliffe shook his head and made a "tsk" noise with his tongue, picking a clipboard up off the desk and making a note on it. "I'll have to give you a 'zero' for participation for the day then. I would suggest you _not _forget such important things again."

Alice decided it would be best not to say anything. She practiced being invisible for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

Alice was lying lazily in a garden picking petals off a daisy. The weather was perfect, the sky blue and cloudless, and she had found a perfect bit of shade to shelter her from the hot sun. She had thought she was alone, when she saw a boy a few yards away. She squinted and stood, dropping the flower—who was that? As she came closer, she saw that he was quite cute, though somewhat generic-looking. Once she was near him, he spoke—but not to her.

"She speaks!" he said.

"That's a curious thing to say," Alice said, only loudly enough for herself to hear. "I hadn't spoken at all."

"O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air," he said dramatically.

"Why, this is utter nonsense," Alice shook her head.

"O Romeo, Romeo!"

Alice turned—the voice coming from behind her belonged to a girl, also generically pretty. Her voice, however, left something to be desired—it sounded a bit old and not particularly pleasant. Alice was sure the girl hadn't been there before. But she must have. There hadn't been any noise.

"Wherefore art thou Romeo?" she said. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."

"This is _Romeo and Juliet_, isn't it?" Alice exclaimed. "We're reading that in my English class—a bit odd to be reciting it in a garden though, isn't it?"

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" the Romeo said.

"Oh, that wasn't a very good aside," Alice said in a scolding voice. "I'm sure Juliet can hear you clearly."

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy—" the Juliet began, then stopped. "Alice."

"No, no, that's not how it goes at all," Alice said. "At least—I don't think that's how it goes. I should have paid more attention in English. But I'm quite sure they never said my name—no that can't be right."

"_Alice_," she said, more sternly, then shouted, "Alice!"

Alice awoke to a classroom full of faces turned, looking right at her.

"Oh dear…" Alice whispered, realizing she must have fallen asleep in the middle of English Lit.

Mrs. Tremaine began writing furiously on a small piece of paper, her face contorted into an expression that could only mean bad things. Alice slumped down in her chair, prepared for the worst. Mrs. Tremaine ripped the paper violently off of its notepad and held it out for Alice to retrieve. Alice slowly got up and walked towards the front of the room.

"Principal's office. Now," Mrs. Tremaine said, and Alice nodded nervously before going out into the hallway.

She headed slowly for the stairs. She determined to walk as slowly as possible to postpone her fate as long as possible. She got a couple of weird stares from students passing by. She passed a tall, dark-haired boy in the stairwell as she was going down. He nearly passed her by, but he stopped and backed up a few steps.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, probably worried by her extremely slow pace—she didn't _look _disabled in any way.

"Hm?" Alice said sluggishly. "Oh… yeah, I'm fine."

"Why the long face?" the boy asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Alice showed him her pass sheepishly.

"Fall asleep in class, eh?" he asked. "I've done it before—I'm sure we all have. Trick is to not get caught. Freshman?"

"Yeah," Alice said.

"Thought so—hadn't seen you around before," he said. "I'm Aladdin."

"Alice," she said, smiling politely.

"Well, good luck with Mr. Minpejrabah," said Aladdin. "I've got to get going or else I'll be going to visit him too. Don't worry too much, he won't care enough to punish you too badly. Just don't draw too much attention to yourself."

Alice thanked him for the advice then continued downwards to her doom. She reached the principal's office and found a skinny boy with copper skin sitting in one of the chairs outside. She looked from the door to him questioningly.

"Someone's in there already," the boy said, answering the unspoken question. "I knocked and—well, you don't want to try."

Alice took the seat next to the boy, as it was the only other seat.

"Are you in trouble too?" Alice asked, her curiosity getting the best of her, as usual.

"Yeah," the boy said.

"What for?" Alice asked.

The boy shrugged earnestly, then looked at Alice, "You?"

"I fell asleep," Alice said, blushing a little. "I guess I'm not used to high school classes. They're so boring."

"You're a freshman?" the boy asked, and Alice nodded. "Me too. I'm Mowgli."

"I'm Alice," she responded. "What class were you in?"

"History."

"With Mr. Ratcliffe?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, he _is _awful," Alice said pityingly. "Just this morning he scolded me in front of the whole class about my homework—oh, it was so embarrassing."

"The same thing happened to me yesterday," Mowgli said, giving a shy smile. "What class were you in just now?"

"Tremaine's Lit class," Alice said, the misery clear in her voice.

"I've got that first block," Mowgli said.

"Our first and second blocks are switched around—too bad," Alice said. "It would be nice to have a friend in either of those classes."

Mowgli gave her a strange look and she wondered if it was too soon to be using the word "friend" with someone she'd just met. But if he thought it strange, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he agreed.

"Those classes are miserable," he said. "Do you have any good classes?"

"Well—French seems okay," Alice said. "The subject matter is a bit dull, but Monsieur Chandelle is nice. And funny."

"Lucky," Mowgli said. "I took Spanish—it's a nightmare."

The door to Mr. Minpejrabah's office opened and a boy sulked out, shaking, with a look of terror on his face. He made his way down the hallway without a word. Mr. Minpejrabah himself stepped out a few moments later, fiddling with his moustache. He looked at the clipboard he was holding, his expression one of sheer boredom.

"Mowgli Jangala?" he said in a voice that sounded a bit like a yawn.

"Wish me luck," Mowgli whispered to Alice.

"Good luck," she said.

Mr. Minpejrabah looked amused and Alice wondered if he had heard. Mowgli stepped into the office and Mr. Minpejrabah closed the door. Sitting there alone was dreadfully boring. Alice tried counting the bricks in the wall across from her, but that only came close to putting her to sleep—again. She wondered if she would get in even more trouble if she happened to fall asleep here on these chairs. It didn't seem terribly comfortable, but Alice didn't doubt that she could manage it.

Luckily—or was it unlucky?—Mr. Minpejrabah didn't keep Mowgli for long. Less than ten minutes later, Mr. Minpejrabah was sending the boy away, seemingly unscathed, and beaconing for Alice to come into his office. He sat down at his desk, seeming annoyed with having to deal with so many students.

"So what did _you _do?" he hissed.

Alice handed him the pass Mrs. Tremaine had given her wordlessly. Mr. Minpejrabah looked at the piece of paper, clicking his tongue. He sighed and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his head as if he had a headache.

"I don't know why these teachers can't solve their own problems," the principal lamented. "They can't handle their students, so they send them all to _me_. I should just fire them all. Except— Well. What'll it be for you, then? I suppose I should give you a detention?"

"Oh, please don't, sir," Alice begged, leaning forward and sitting on the edge of her chair. "I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, you want to _talk _about it?" Mr. Minpejrabah rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well sir, I—"

"I suppose you have a lot of _feelings _don't you?"

Alice was puzzled but tried to speak up, "Well, I—"

"You want _me _to sit here and solve all your problems? You think I have time for that nonsense?"

"I—"

"Go to the guidance office."

"Sir?"

"Go to guidance," Mr. Minpejrabah repeated firmly. "Speak to Ms. Fee. I don't need your problems in my office. They bore me."

"O-okay," Alice said, standing confusedly.

"Ms. Fee's office is right next door," Mr. Minpejrabah said impatiently. "_Go_."

Alice nodded and hurried out of the office. The next door over had a plaque on it which read:

Blue Fee  
Guidance Counselor

"Blue?" Alice muttered to herself. "What an odd name…"

She wondered if the guidance counselor would be as unpleasant as the principal was—or worse. She briefly considered just leaving and hoping Mr. Minpejrabah wouldn't check to make sure she'd visited the guidance counselor. But she couldn't do that—she was in enough trouble already. Taking a deep breath, she knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," a soft voice called—Alice hoped the personality would match the voice.

She pushed the door open slowly and carefully. Behind the desk was a petite woman with wavy, shoulder-length light blonde hair and pale skin. She was dressed all in blue—blue dress, blue headband, and, Alice imagined, blue shoes. Alice thought to herself that if _she _were named Blue, she would do anything in her power not to remind people of that. But apparently the counselor embraced her namesake.

"Hello," she said softly, looking at Alice with kind eyes. "What can I help you with today?"

"Um…" Alice stepped into the room and closed the door. "Mr. Minpejrabah sent me here. I'm… actually not sure why."

"Oh, he does that quite a lot," the counselor said, laughing. "Why don't you have a seat? I'm Ms. Fee, by the way. What's your name?"

"Alice Liddell," she said as she took the seat across from Ms. Fee—it was surprisingly comfortable.

Ms. Fee typed something into her computer, then waited for a moment.

"Ah, so you're a freshman," Ms. Fee nodded. "I take it you were coming from Mrs. Tremaine's class to Mr. Minpejrabah's?"

Alice nodded.

"Yes, she's always sending students away," Ms. Fee shook her head. "Can't control her temper—that seems to be a problem for a lot of the teachers here. Oh! Excuse me. That's not very professional."

"I won't tell," Alice smiled.

"Did she give you a reason for sending you away?"

"Well—yes," Alice said, embarrassed. "I suppose it was a good reason, too. I fell asleep."

"I can't say that I blame you," Ms. Fee said sympathetically. "Oh, but… in high school, it's a lot different from middle school, obviously. Do you have trouble concentrating?"

Alice nodded, "I suppose I daydream a lot… There's a lot going on in my head and… I don't quite know how to stop it."

Ms. Fee nodded, then looked back at the screen, "It sounds like you need an outlet for all these… ideas, don't you?"

"I… suppose," Alice said. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, though."

"Well, I see here you're in Ms. Gothel's Fiction Writing course—how's that going?" Ms. Fee asked.

"Um, fine, I guess," Alice shrugged. "Same as most of my classes—although Ms. Gothel's scary in kind of a… different way. I don't know."

"Well, a daydreamer like you—I bet you're great at writing," Ms. Fee said.

"I never really tried," Alice said. "I didn't much like books as a child—well, I don't like them much now either."

"Perhaps that's just because the books aren't telling you the stories you're interested in reading," Ms. Fee said. "I bet if you wrote stories of your own, you'd like to read those."

"Well… that's different," Alice said.

"Yes, I suppose," Ms. Fee said, and the bell rang. "I don't see any reason to keep you hear, unless you have something else you'd like to talk about. If not, you can go ahead to your next class."

"Thank you, Ms. Fee," Alice said, standing.

"If you ever want or need to talk about anything, I'm always available," Ms. Fee said, smiling.

Alice nodded, although she doubted she would ever be back here. Ms. Fee was certainly very kind, but Alice didn't foresee herself needing any guidance. Once in the hallway, she yawned and stretched. Well, that was certainly an interesting diversion from the normal daily routine… She took the schedule she had folded in her pocket and checked the room number for French class, then skipped off on her way down the hallway.


	5. Aladdin, September 10 to 11

**V.** Aladdin, September 10 to 11

* * *

The last class of the day on a Friday was of course, inevitably, the most boring class of the entire week. Of course, it didn't help that Aladdin's last class was Theology with Mr. Frollo. He tapped his pencil on his desk impatiently, watching the hands on the clock move ever-so-slowly. At one point he was almost positive they weren't even moving at all. Aladdin had a bad case of senioritis and it was only the first week of classes.

When the clock read only ten minutes left until the bell, everyone started gathering their things, packing their books away and zipping up their bags. Mr. Frollo looked irritated, but even he knew there was nothing that could be done. The lure of the weekend was much too strong. Finally, the bell rang. Aladdin threw his backpack over his shoulder and was the first person out the door. He spotted Alice, a girl he'd met on Wednesday, and caught up with her. Her long blonde hair that reached midway down her back made her instantly recognizable. He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped a little, looking up at him in surprise.

"Oh—hello!" she said. "Aladdin, isn't it?"

"Yep," he said. "You don't look so sad anymore."

"Well, I was only sad because I was in trouble," she said.

"Things must've gone alright—I mean, you're alive, so…" Aladdin saw her surprised expression and added, "I'm joking, of course."

"Oh… of course," Alice smiled, nodding.

"Hey, uh, what are you doing this weekend?" Aladdin asked.

"N-nothing," Alice said, surprised at the question. "Why?"

"Well, there's going to be this big party to celebrate the start of the school year tomorrow—well, people will take any opportunity to party, of course," Aladdin said. "Anyway, you should come if you aren't busy!"

"Oh, I don't think so," Alice said quietly, but Aladdin was already scribbling down the address on a piece of paper.

"Well, in case you change your mind," Aladdin handed her the piece of paper and she looked at it warily. "Jas and I will both be there, so you could always hang out with us if you don't know anybody else—and I'll introduce you to some people."

"Jas?" Alice asked.

"Oh, that's my girlfriend—Jasmine?" Aladdin said. "You'll meet her eventually. Hopefully tomorrow!"

"Probably not," she said, crumpling it a little and sticking it in her bag, presumably never to be seen again. "But thanks anyway."

"Well, I've got to go—the parking lot gets crazy right after school—hope you change your mind!" Aladdin said, waving goodbye.

Alice gave him a forced-looking smile and waved back. He made his way out to his fifteen-year-old Honda Civic and saw that Jasmine was already waiting, standing by the passenger side and looking slightly annoyed.

"Hey!" Aladdin said. "Sorry about that."

"What took you so long?" Jasmine asked, a slight edge to her voice.

"Oh, I just ran into this girl I met the other day," Aladdin said as he unlocked the car. "A freshman—I invited her to the party tomorrow."

"Oh, great," Jasmine said, rolling her eyes.

Aladdin decided not to comment as they both climbed into the car. Jasmine's father was going away for the weekend on business and the party was being held at her gigantic mansion. Honestly, what did she care if there was one guest that she didn't particularly approve of? Alice seemed like a nice girl, anyway—Aladdin was sure she and Jasmine would get along if Jasmine would give her a chance. Aladdin pulled the car to the back of the haphazard queue waiting to turn onto the road. Jasmine smiled and waved to someone. Aladdin didn't see who.

"Who was that?" he asked, curious.

"No one," Jasmine said rather quickly, sounding defensive. "Just a friend."

Aladdin shrugged it off. He leaned back and turned up the radio.

* * *

Aladdin dug through a drawer, looking for something suitable to wear to Jasmine's party. The selection was pretty limited. While his girlfriend came from a wealthy, well-known family and lived in a huge house in a nice neighborhood with her rich father, Aladdin's life was somewhat of the opposite. He lived in a somewhat dingy apartment by himself. Of course, most people didn't know about the fact that he was on his own. Obviously he would have been put into some kind of foster care program long ago if that were the case, but he and Jasmine managed to keep it a secret. Aladdin honestly _didn't _mind his lifestyle. And neither did Jasmine, as long as the two spent their time at her place and not at his. As Aladdin was trying to decide between two t-shirts he had narrowed his selection down to, his crappy old flip cell phone started ringing its midi tune and vibrating violently against the dresser. He checked to see who was calling—it was his manager from work.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hi Aladdin, um, I need you to come in tonight," the voice on the other line said.

"Are you joking?" Aladdin asked, balancing the phone on his shoulder as he folded up the t-shirt he had decided against.

"'Fraid not," his manager replied. "The person who was scheduled didn't show up and no one else is available."

Aladdin groaned. The manager _knew _Aladdin couldn't say no to extra hours. He needed the money—badly. Undoubtedly he'd need to go in now, and he wouldn't be able to make Jasmine's party. He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily.

"Fine," he finally said.

"Great," the manager said. "Can you come in right now?"

"Fine," Aladdin grumbled.

He changed quickly into his uniform for work—a dark red polo shirt, khaki pants, and all-black sneakers. As he got into the car, he dialed Jasmine.

"Hello?" she said, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Hey Jas," Aladdin said as sweetly as possible. "Um, I just got called in to work so I don't think I'll be able to make it to your party tonight. I'm really sorry, babe, I—"

"Oh, that's alright," Jasmine said, not sounding at all upset—Aladdin had been hoping she would take it well, but he hadn't expected her to take it _that _well. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Uh… yeah," Aladdin said. "I'll call you."

"Great," Jasmine said. "Love! Bye!"

"Um, I love you… too?" Aladdin said, but Jasmine had already hung up.

Aladdin looked at the phone for a moment, then tossed it in the glove compartment and headed to work. Aladdin worked at the photo department in one of those chain drug stores you see on practically every single corner. It obviously wasn't the best job, but it was a job. And working in photo certainly beat being a cashier—he got paid about a dollar more an hour and the work was at least mildly more interesting. Of course, the only people who went to drug stores to get their photos developed anymore were those still living in the stone age, using disposable cameras on their vacations. But when he wasn't developing photos, he did whatever odd jobs were needed of him. It kept things interesting, at least. As it got later, the traffic in the store thinned out and soon Aladdin was left with nothing to do but to lean on his counter flipping through a magazine he'd grabbed off the newsstand.

"Hey, if you want to leave now, you can," his manager said, stepping up to the counter. "It doesn't seem like we'll be needing you any longer."

"Great," Aladdin said, smiling and tidying up the area to get ready to leave.

The two exchanged a few words, then Aladdin went to the break things to grab his things and go. He checked the time on his phone as he headed to the car. It wasn't even eleven yet—Jasmine's party will have just been getting started. He hopped in the car with excitement, flipping open his phone to call her. His finger hesitated on the "send" button. He closed the phone. He would surprise her. He smiled at the idea. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when he walked in. She would be _so _excited. He looked down at what he was wearing—it would have to do. He didn't want to waste time going home and changing.

Jasmine's house was all lit up. From the outside, it looked like the lights were on in every room, and Aladdin could feel the bass even from outside. He straightened out his shirt and walked to the door with confidence, ringing the doorbell. He hoped Jasmine would answer. She didn't. Instead, the one who opened the door was a girl in a short purple dress whose brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She had a hand on her hip as she looked at him expectantly, chewing her gum.

"Uh, hi, I, uh…"

A look of surprise suddenly washed over the girl's face, "Oh! You must be Aladdin. I'd heard you weren't coming."

"Uh, yeah, that's me," Aladdin said, smiling. "I got off work early, so I figured I'd show up, as a surprise."

The girl nodded, giving Aladdin a strange look, "You seem like a nice guy. And that means a lot, coming from me."

"Uh, thanks?" Aladdin said unsurely as he stepped inside and past the girl. What was _that _all about?

He looked around for Jasmine for a minute. The place was pretty packed, and most everyone was drunk. Fed up, he stopped a tall, square-chinned blonde man who appeared at least relatively sober. He said he heard Jasmine had gone up to her room, and shrugged. Aladdin thanked him and made his way up the stairs. The house was huge, but of course he knew exactly where Jasmine's bedroom was.

He made his way to the door, turned the knob, and—well, that certainly wasn't Jasmine. Aladdin was greeted by the sight of a bright red head of hair—or the back of it, at least. Some guy had apparently decided to occupy this bedroom for his escapades, probably not knowing it was the hostess's and not some guest bedroom. Aladdin decided he should leave him and whoever he was making out with to it and continue his search for his girlfriend.

"Sorry, I'll just—"

The red-head looked up, startled, and Aladdin recognized him as a junior named Thomas Bale. He was surprised—he'd always been under the impression that Thomas was a bit socially inept and had never kissed a girl in his life. Suddenly, Aladdin felt as if something had caught in his throat. Wasn't that—? No, it couldn't be. Aladdin reached over shakily and turned on the light. It was.

"_Jasmine_?" Aladdin shouted.

Thomas leapt up, buttoned his jeans and scurried out of the room before Aladdin could fully react. For a few seconds he just stood in the doorway gaping, opening and closing his mouth, unsure of what to say and also completely unable to form any words.

"What—I—how—?" he finally managed.

"I—I can… hey!" Jasmine said. "You said you weren't coming! You said you had to work!"

"Are you _kidding_?" Aladdin said. "I just caught you cheating on me with—with _Thomas_ of all people, and you're going to get mad at _me_ for showing up to surprise you at your party when I got off work early? _I don't think so_!"

Jasmine looked a bit scared. Aladdin never got angry. Never lost his temper. He couldn't recall ever yelling at her before, and even he didn't know what he was going to do or say next. This was unfamiliar territory.

"You—you—I can't believe this," Aladdin said, looking away from Jasmine—how _could _ he look at her?—and rubbing his forehead. "Is this… How long has this been going on for?"

"This—this was the first time," Jasmine mumbled.

Aladdin stared at her for a few moments. "You're lying. I can't believe you're lying to me. I—I just—I've got to get out of here."

"Aladdin, wait—I can explain," Jasmine said, scrambling to get up off the bed.

"No," Aladdin said sternly, throwing a hand up to emphasize his point. "I don't want to hear it. There's no explanation you could give that could possibly excuse this. We're done."

"We—what?" Jasmine stammered.

"You heard me," Aladdin said, not even able to bring himself to look at her. "Don't try to call me. Just… don't."

He walked down the hallway and down the stairs. She didn't follow him. He walked through the front room and people stopped to look at him. They pointed. They knew. They _all _knew. And nobody had the decency to tell him. Not that he could blame them. Aladdin wondered, if he had been in their situations, if he would have had the courage to break a person's heart like that. When he finally got outside, the crisp night air felt good compared to the sweaty humidity of the mansion. He sat down on the stoop—just for a few minutes to collect himself. He wouldn't want to drive in that state of mind. He put his hands on the back of his head, elbows on his knees, leaned forward and closed his eyes. He heard the door open, someone shuffle over and sit next to him. He prayed it wasn't Jasmine—anyone but Jasmine. After a minute's silence, he looked up. It was Alice.

"You came."

"Yeah," she said, smiling shyly and looking down at the ground. "I don't know why. I shouldn't have. This isn't my thing."

"You know, I don't really think it's mine either," Aladdin gave her the best smile he could manage before he let his face fall again. They sat in silence for another minute.

"What happened in there?" Alice asked.

"You don't know?" Aladdin asked, and Alice shook her head. "You must be the only one. Jasmine's been cheating on me—I don't know for how long. Long enough. Apparently everyone knew. Everyone but… me."

"I'm sorry," Alice said, looking genuinely sad.

"Wow," Aladdin said, soaking in everything that had happened. "Wow… I… really can't believe this. We've been dating for so long. I thought… Well I'd assumed we'd always be together, I guess. Kind of a silly thing to think."

"I think everyone likes to think they're with 'the one,'" Alice said, looking up at the sky. "It gives relationships meaning or something."

Aladdin looked at her appreciatively, "You're pretty smart for a freshman. I'm glad I met you."

Alice looked at him, "I'm glad I met you too. And I truly am sorry about your girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," Aladdin corrected.

"Already?" Alice looked surprised.

Aladdin nodded, "I can't possibly stay with her. The fact that she would do that to me… I'll never be able to trust her again. And what's a relationship without trust?"

Alice didn't answer. Of course, she didn't have the answer. No one could. It was a rhetorical question, anyway. The two sat quietly staring out into the night for a while. Aladdin thought about the past few years. He and Jasmine had been inseparable—or so he thought. It seemed they had done everything together. Almost all of his free time had been spent on Jasmine. He shook his head. Being single would be an interesting adventure. And what about the plans he and Jasmine had had for the upcoming year? Jasmine had every intention of snagging the crown at prom, even though Snow White had been the favorite since freshman year. Aladdin smiled at the thought of Jasmine's disappointment when she didn't win.

_No, _he thought. _Don't think like that. That's the way she'd think—revenge. Don't sink down to her level._

He looked over at Alice. He found himself letting out a small laugh.

"What?" Alice tilted her head.

"I was just thinking—Homecoming's coming up," Aladdin said. "I guess this means I don't have a date. Want to go—as friends?"

Alice smiled, "That sounds lovely."

Aladdin smiled back. It was a genuine smile this time. He had spent so much time on Jasmine these past years that he hadn't had much time for cultivating other friendships. Alice was a sweet girl. He hardly knew her, and he already felt a kind of brotherly love for her. He wanted to protect her and make sure she never experienced anything like what he had experienced tonight. He could already tell this was the start of what was sure to be a great friendship.

"How'd you get here?" Aladdin asked.

"I walked," Alice said sheepishly. "I didn't have anyone to give me a ride, and I'm only fourteen… But my house isn't _too_ far."

"Come on, I'll give you a ride," Aladdin said, standing up and holding a hand out for Alice.

She hesitated, "You haven't been drinking, have you?"

"No," Aladdin smiled, but she still paused.

"Let me smell your breath," she demanded, and he obliged with a laugh.

"Good girl," Aladdin said. "You can never be too careful."

Alice shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed. Aladdin drove her home and then drove himself home. As he lay in bed that night, he wasn't dwelling on the past anymore—he was thinking about the future. And he was thinking maybe, just _maybe_ being single wouldn't be quite so bad.


	6. Megara, September 13

**VI.** Megara, September 13

* * *

Megara woke up Monday morning with a terrible hangover. Jasmine's party on Sunday had been a blast—until the Aladdin/Thomas fiasco, after which she had made everyone leave immediately—but, in hindsight, that was definitely enough. Shang Li had had a party Sunday night and Meg just couldn't resist. It was a good party despite the obnoxious number of guys—mostly football players—who wound up trying to hit on Meg. Meg had basically sworn off men—she had had _far _too many bad experiences with them. It wasn't like she was going to go the lesbian route or anything—she wasn't attracted to women, unfortunately. That would have just been too easy. No, she was destined to remain single forever. But that was alright. Being single wasn't so bad. Being single was cool.

She got up and pulled her curly hair into its usual high ponytail, looking at the calendar. Ugh. Picture day. Meg knew from her many past years of picture days—ten, to be exact—that it really didn't matter how good you looked in the mirror that morning. Your picture would always, without fail, turn out looking like shit. Unless you were one of those impossibly photogenic girls that everyone secretly hated. Still, Meg wasted a few good minutes picking just the right outfit and applying her makeup.

One of Meg's best friends, Esmeralda Rom, picked her up. It was nice having a senior friend—not having to drive. The parking lot of Walt Disney High School was rather small, and therefore only seniors—and a few select juniors, chosen by a random lottery—were given parking passes. Esmeralda—or Esme, as her friends called her—drove an old convertible she had fixed up herself. She got it for cheap, but now it was definitely a nice car.

"Hey," Meg said as she climbed into the passenger seat.

"You look nice," Esme noted.

"So do you," Meg returned the compliment. "How is Quasi?"

Esme gave Meg a _look_. Meg asked this question every day. Esme and Quasimodo Michaud had been best friends since… forever. But Esme had started dating Phoebus over the summer and Quasi had grown distant. Nowadays they hardly talked. Meg felt like she was missing part of the story, but Esme didn't like to talk about it.

"Men," Meg shrugged, throwing her hands up in mock-defeat.

"Come on," Esme said. "When are you going to give up that attitude?"

"How about… never?" Meg said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"People are starting to talk…" Esme said in a sort of sing-song voice.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Meg snapped.

"Don't shoot the messenger; I'm just saying," Esme said defensively. "You've got all these hot, sought-after men practically throwing themselves at you and you show _no _interest whatsoever. People are going to think…"

"So let them," Meg said. "Who cares If they think I'm a lesbian? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, obviously," Esme said. "Just most people _would _care, that's all."

"I'm not a lesbian, just for clarification."

"_I_ know that," Esme laughed. "So how was the party last night? More of the same?"

"Yeah," Meg said. "Half the football team flirting with me—you know how it is. That Gaston… He's just… _vile_."

"I heard that Hercules guy is interested in you—like _really _interested," Esme said. "Was he there?"

"Yeah," Meg said with a sigh. "He actually _didn't _try flirting with me. But I kept catching him staring at me. Kind of creepy—awkward."

"That's cute though—don't you think it's kind of cute?" Esme asked.

"Enlighten me as to how that is in any way 'cute,'" Meg grumbled, looking quite unamused.

"Well, Hercules is a pretty confident guy by all accounts, right?" Esme said. "There are plenty of girls who would _love _for him to even look their way. So if he wouldn't come over and talk to you that must mean he feels intimidated by you—he's scared to talk to you. He's being shy. How sweet."

Meg rolled her eyes, "He just knows I'm going to reject him like I rejected every other guy, and he doesn't want to damage his reputation—or his ego."

"I don't know," Esme said, pulling into the school lot. "From what I've heard, it sounds like he's pretty infatuated."

"Whatever you say, Esme," Meg said absently. "I'm not going to date him anyway."

"All I'm saying is don't write him off based on things that have happened in your past," Esme said, stepping out of the car and closing the door. "You can't blame him."

Esme gave Meg a smile that looked much too wise for such a young face. Meg felt a wave of emotion hit her, but tried her best not to show it. She felt suddenly very serious, whereas the conversation had felt light beforehand. Esme gave a little wave and told Meg she'd see her after school. Meg mumbled a response. She stood frozen in the parking lot for a few moments. What she was doing _wasn't _wrong. She was just protecting herself. Hercules—and any other guy, for that matter—would just have to deal with it because there was nothing they could do to change it. Meg shook her head and headed to class.

* * *

Meg stood in the crowded, stuffy gymnasium, waiting towards the back of a long line of students. She didn't mind being towards the back. The longer it took her to get her pictures done, the less time she'd have to spend in class, right? Still, she wasn't a huge fan of standing around. She yawned and looked at the clock on the wall. A man from the picture studio was walking down the line, handing out tiny red fine-toothed combs. Not helpful. Meg looked around for someone she knew in her line—this would be a lot less boring with someone to chat with. Esme was across the room in the Q-Z line, so there was no chance of that. Meg spotted Wendy Darling, a girl a year younger who she was somewhat acquainted with. It was worth a shot. She started heading over towards the girl when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes—was a teacher seriously going to stop her from "cutting the line"? As _if _anyone cared about that stuff anymore. She turned around and—well, it certainly wasn't a teacher.

"Hey."

"Ugh, hey yourself, Hercules," Meg tossed her hair as dramatically as she could as she turned to head back towards Wendy Darling—but she'd lost sight of her.

"What did I do?" Hercules asked. "Why do you have such a problem with me?"

Meg ignored the question and asked a question of her own, "What are you doing in the A-H line, anyway? Aren't you a Touolympou?"

"You pronounced my name right," Hercules said, looking and sounding stunned.

"No kidding," Meg said. "I'm Greek, too—_please _don't tell me you didn't know that. Not only is it common knowledge, but what kind of stalker wouldn't know that about his juvenile crush?"

"Of course I knew tha—hey! Are you calling me a stalker?"

"Well, what would _you _call what you're doing?" Meg asked.

"Well… I'm not going to pretend I'm not into you," Hercules said. "But I'm not a stalker. I like you. I just wish you'd give me the time of day."

"You haven't given me any reason to give you the time of day," Meg said with a shrug.

"You haven't given me a _chance _to give you a reason!" Hercules said a bit loudly, exasperated. "I know I should just give up—everyone tells me I should—but… I can't. You're _different_,Megara. Ever since I met you—you probably don't even remember the first time we properly met—I haven't been able to see other girls. I've _tried _dating the girls that were interested in me, but they just weren't _you_."

Meg found herself blushing, looking at Hercules wide-eyed in stunned silence. Of all the guys that had wronged her, none had ever said anything like that. For a moment she thought it might have been the most romantic thing she'd ever heard. Then her normal thoughts kicked in and she felt like herself again.

_He's just trying to get into your pants. He doesn't mean any of it._

Meg shook her head and scoffed.

"Please," Hercules said, grabbing Meg by the arms. "Just give me a chance."

Meg pulled away from him, "_Don't_ touch me."

"One chance," Hercules repeated. "That's all I'm asking for."

Meg felt something tugging at her heart. She felt as if something was collapsing inside of her—the walls of the fortress, perhaps?

"One chance," she said. "_One _date."

Hercules's face lit up. "What do you want to do?"

"You get one chance to impress me and you ask _me _where we're going?" Meg raised an eyebrow.

"I figure we should do something you like," Hercules said. "I want you to have a good time. And I just want to get to know you and let you get to me. I just want to show you who I am, and if you don't like me after this… well, that's fine."

"Okay," Meg said. "Meet me at the Underworld Arcade after school today."

"You got it," Hercules smiled widely, then headed back over to his line with a wave.

* * *

An hour and a half after school let out, Meg arrived at the Underworld Arcade. She found Hercules wandering between the pinball machines. He looked surprised to see her. Well. She was pretty late.

"I… Well, I thought you'd stood me up," Hercules admitted.

"I considered it," Meg admitted. "But here I am."

"I didn't know you were into this kind of thing—arcade games, I mean," Hercules said, gesturing around him.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Meg said, then gestured towards a nearby vintage pinball machine. The high scores were rolling by, then reached number one—"MEG."

"Is that… _you_?" Hercules asked, looking thoroughly impressed.

Meg nodded, "Little known fact—I'm a pinball _wizard_."

"I'd like to see that," Hercules said.

Meg gave him a sly smile and headed over to the machine. It was, simply put, the most impressive game of pinball Hercules had ever seen. And it was actually entertaining to watch. The ball never once fell between the flippers. The game was long and Meg racked up points quickly. The ball shot between bumpers, kickers, and slingshots, lighting up the machine and Hercules's eyes. Once Meg activated multiball, the machine went crazy with noise as she kept all the balls in play. When the game was finally over, Meg hadn't beat her _highest _high score, but she'd made the list and won a free game. She looked to Hercules.

"Your turn," she said.

"Oh—no," Hercules shook his head. "No thanks, I'd just embarrass myself."

"Come on," Meg said. "You have to. Do it or I'll leave."

He gave in and stood in front of the machine. He tried to pull the plunger but the ball didn't spring out onto the playfield. Meg seemed to think this was very funny.

"What?" Hercules asked.

"You have to push start first," Meg shook her head. "Have you _never_ played pinball?"

"It's… it's been a while," Hercules admitted sheepishly.

He hit start and launched the ball into play. It didn't take long for it to fall between the flippers. Meg didn't laugh at that, though. In fact, she was encouraging and kept the sarcasm to a minimum as she gave Hercules tips to improve his score and his strategy. Pinball wasn't simply the game of luck that so many people thought it was—there was, in fact, some skill involved. Hercules finished the game with a halfway-decent beginner's score. Meg's lack of disapproval was the best part. She hated to admit to herself that she was actually having a bit of fun. Going to the arcade was usually a solitary thing for her—something she did to let off steam or whatever. It wasn't something she usually shared, and she wasn't sure what had made her invite Hercules along on a whim. She could have suggested they do anything else, but she had decided to share this with him on some bizarre impulse.

"So what games are you good at?" Meg asked.

"Well… _good _is relative, but I like ski ball," Hercules shrugged.

"I'm awful at ski ball," Meg admitted. "But alright. Show me your moves."

They smiled at each other for a moment, then Meg shook her head and led Hercules to the ski ball machines. She watched as Hercules rolled the balls up the ramp, landing every single one in the 50 or 100 holes. She nodded.

"Impressive," she smiled.

Hercules held up a quarter, "Your turn."

"Oh no," Meg said. "I'm worse at ski ball than you are at pinball—_much _worse."

"Oh, come on," Hercules said. "You can't be _that _bad."

"Oh, believe me, I can," Meg said, taking the quarter from Hercules and dropping it in the slot.

The balls slid down the tube. Meg picked the first one up, pulled her arm back, and… 10 points. She looked at Hercules with an "I-told-you-so" glance. She tossed another ball up the ramp. It bounced off one of the rubber rings and landed in the gutter area for zero points. Meg looked at Hercules, throwing her hands up in surrender.

"You aren't even trying!" Hercules said.

"Believe it or not, I am," Meg said truthfully. "I've never been good at this game."

"All it takes is a little practice," Hercules said. "Here—let me show you. Pick up a ball."

Meg picked it up and Hercules came behind her, putting his arm along hers and taking her wrist in his hand. He put a hand on her hip to guide her.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly, and she nodded, swallowing.

He led her through the motions, telling her when to let go of the ball and leading her through every step. 40 points. He led her through again. 50 points. He stepped back and she felt herself wishing for a moment that she hadn't—though she'd never admit it.

_It's hormones, _she told herself. _Just stupid hormones. Stop it._

She did it on her own and landed 20 points, then two 30s, a 50, and a 40.

"Not bad," Hercules said. "Not bad at all."

"Oh please," Meg said.

"You're a beginner at this just like I'm a beginner at pinball," Hercules said. "But we can learn from each other."

Meg smiled, then frowned. That implied a long-term commitment. It was sweet and everything, but… This was it. She had promised him one date, and that was all he was going to get. One date. Right.

"Is something wrong?" Hercules asked. "Did I say something?"

"No—nothing," Meg said, mentally kicking herself even as she said the words. "It's nothing. Nothing's wrong, I just remembered I have all this homework, and… I'm just worried I won't be able to get it all done tonight."

"I could come over and help you," Hercules said. "I mean—if you'd like me to."

"No, it's fine," Meg said. "I don't need any help on it. Um, this was really fun, though. So… thanks."

"I can walk you home if you'd like," Hercules said, following Meg as she headed for the door.

"No," Meg said simply, pushing the doors open and stepping outside.

"Meg," Hercules said, sounding tired and bewildered.

"What?" she said, her tone snappy as she turned sharply to look at Hercules.

"What—I thought we were having a good time," Hercules said, then paused to let Meg respond and continued when she didn't. "Are we going to see each other again?"

Meg hesitated for a moment, "No. No, I don't think so."

"Can you at least give me a reason why?" Hercules asked.

Meg grabbed Hercules's hand and pulled him to the side of the building. There were no lights here. There was another building right next door and they were essentially standing in a dark alley. There was nothing dangerous about the town, so they had nothing to fear, but it was spooky nonetheless.

"Meg," Hercules said quietly.

Meg shushed him, putting her hands on his chest. She pushed him gently backwards towards the wall.

"Meg, what are you—"

Reaching the wall, she pushed his back against the bricks and stood on her toes to kiss him. It wasn't a simple, ordinary kiss on the lips. It wasn't your typical first kiss. It was more like the kind of first kiss you'd see in a movie. It was intense and deep and even emotional in a way. Meg felt all her loneliness pouring into the kiss. Hercules was confused, but he didn't resist—how could he? He put his arms around Meg's tiny waist as she buried her fingers in his curly orangey-red hair. Meg wasn't even completely sure why she had done it, but it certainly felt right. Maybe it was because Hercules seemed to be treating her with a genuine kindness. Even if it turned out not to be real in the end, Meg at least gave herself this moment. She was living in the moment, and she was enjoying it.

_Wait. No. Stop._

Meg pulled away suddenly. Hercules leaned in for another kiss, but she shook her head, a worried look falling over her face as her thoughts consumed her once again.

_This is the kind of thinking that got you into trouble in the first place. Living in the moment… that's what leads to broken hearts._

"Meg?" Hercules said, concerned.

"I—I can't," Meg said. "Bye."

She turned and ran, leaving Hercules alone in the dark.


	7. Wendy, September 14

**VII.** Wendy, September 14

* * *

Wendy Darling was one of those first name-last name people. You know the types—she was one of those people who was always referred to by full name, even if it was obvious who you were talking about. Wendy often wondered why it was that she was one of those first name-last name people. It wasn't like Wendy was a common name or anything—she was quite sure she was the only Wendy at the school. She got the feeling she was only one of those people by virtue of being best friends with one of those people—namely, Peter Pan. He was _never _just Peter. Never a Peter without a Pan. Being just plain Peter would've been much too dull for him. But Wendy would have been okay with being plain old Wendy. It seemed, however, that she had no choice but to be Wendy Darling forever.

In truth, Wendy Darling would've rather been Wendy Pan. She knew it was a silly thing to think when they were both only sophomores, but she thought it nonetheless. Wendy Darling had a nicer ring to it than Wendy Pan, she thought, but Pan was _his _name. She was his best friend, but really, she just wanted to be _his_. Over the summer, she had developed this whole elaborate plan about how she was going to phase herself out of the friend zone and turn their long-running friendship into a romance. The plan was seamless. Everything was planned out. But now, something was stopping her from initiating the plan: Tiger Lily.

She was only a freshman. Apparently, she and Peter had gone to preschool together and hadn't seen each other since. Wendy watched them from afar, not wanting to hear their conversation because she didn't want them to be having one at all. It wasn't an inviting conversation, either. They talked with their bodies and faces near each others'. She would laugh and touch his arm or his chest. He would sometimes touch her black hair or hold her rich, dark hand. And it made Wendy's blood boil. There was no doubt the girl was beautiful. And she didn't have a friend zone to escape from, which made it that much easier for her. Wendy had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be able to win this one.

Wendy's first class this rainy Tuesday morning was French 1. She had used one of her electives to start taking another language class. She had taken Spanish 1 last year, and she was taking Spanish 2, but the idea of being _tri_-lingual appealed to her—well, and to her parents. For the most part, French 1 was full of unfamiliar faces, though she was getting to know a few people. It was mainly a freshman class, as all freshmen were required to take a first-year language class. There was one face that quickly became familiar to Wendy—Tiger Lily's. Of course, Wendy acted as if she didn't know who Tiger Lily was. She couldn't let on that her relationship with Peter Pan was in any way bothersome to her. But she also couldn't bear to look the girl in the eye and be _civil_. And Wendy wasn't the type to be uncivil, so she decided to just ignore the girl's existence.

Monsieur Chandelle, a bubbly, brown-haired Frenchman, sauntered into the room. The best way to describe him was as a _long _person. He was tall and lanky, and even his face seemed disproportionately tall. He kept his shoulder-length hair tied back into a neat ponytail and always dressed in an extremely professional manner. He was a kind man with a sense of humor, the kind of teacher that was extremely scarce at Walt Disney High School.

"Hello everyone!" M. Chandelle said brightly in his French accent as he waltzed in. "How are we all doing today?"

A few grumbled replies came from the wet and tired crowd.

"Oh, don't all look so glum," M. Chandelle said. "This is French! French is fun! Well, I'll at least _try _to make it as fun as possible. Who would like to read their homework first? No one? Of course no one. I hate to put anyone on the spot—but if no one will volunteer…"

"I'll read mine," Wendy finally said, raising her hand a bit as she said it.

"Ah, Ms. Darling, thank you very much," M. Chandelle said. "Won't you come to the front to read?"

Wendy stood and walked to the front of the classroom, clutching her basic French paragraph in her hand.

"Bonjour Mesdames et Messieurs," Wendy read. "Je m'appelle Wendy Darling. J'ai seize ans. J'ai deux frères. Pendant mes moments de loisir, je sors avec mes amis. Pour me détendre, je lis des romans. Mon meilleur ami est Peter Pan. Il est près de seize ans."

Wendy looked to M. Chandelle.

"Very good, Wendy!" he said, clapping—a couple of other people joined in the clapping as if by impulse, slapping their hands together unenthusiastically a couple times. "Now—who is next?"

Wendy watched uninterestedly as the other students went to the front one-by-one and read their paragraphs, which were all almost exactly the same as hers, with a few details tweaked. She felt herself yawning several times, not paying much attention at all to whatever was being said. She started doodling on the paper that her paragraph was written on. She drew pirate ships and mermaids, and herself and Peter flying across the sky over mountains. The pictures were mainly of stick figure quality, but it was clear that Wendy had an imagination. It was a fact very few people knew about her. She often had colorful dreams about faraway, fantastical places. Places where she'd never have to grow up. The pressure that Wendy's parents put on her frightened her. She was afraid of going to college and then, god forbid, the real world, because she felt she could never live up to her parents' expectations. Yes, she was only a sophomore, but she knew the high school years could go by quickly—just look how quickly freshman year had gone by! Her scribbles, at this point, had turned into just that—scribbles. She was scrawling frantically at the top corner of the page. She finally realized what she was doing when she poked a hole in it.

"Is there anyone left who hasn't gone?" M. Chandelle asked.

"Me, sir," a quiet voice said.

Wendy looked. It was Tiger Lily. She walked timidly to the front of the class. She looked as she always did—completely lovely and adorable. Nothing surprised Wendy about the fact that Peter had gone for Tiger Lily, she was just disappointed. It wasn't that Wendy wasn't pretty—she was. But Peter tended to go for the kind of girls who were considered "cute," and Wendy just didn't really fall into that category. Wendy couldn't help but hope that Tiger Lily would somehow grow out of the rounded features and button nose, but she doubted it. She sure knew how to highlight it, too—her "signature" hairstyle seemed to be two loose, neat pigtails and a thin blue headband worn around her forehead. She had kind of a hippie style with a Native American flair, playing up her ancestry. Lots of fringe, feathers, and peace signs. Wendy always dressed conservatively (read: boring)—her mother wouldn't have it any other way.

"Bonjour," Tiger Lily said quietly. "Je m'appelle Tiger Lily. J'ai quatorze ans. Je suis un enfant unique. Mon petit ami est Peter Pan."

Wendy froze. Mon petit ami. _Mon petit ami_. She appeared to be flipping through her French book calmly, but inside, she felt frantic. Petit. Petit meant small. My small friend? No. Wendy knew that wasn't it. When "petit" was with "ami," it meant…

_They're dating._

Wendy had found the page she was looking for. She knew she must look even paler than usual as she closed her French book calmly and looked to the front of the room. _They were dating_ and Peter hadn't even had the decency to tell his best friend. Oh god, maybe he knew. Maybe he had somehow realized that Wendy was hopelessly in love with him. Was she that obvious? She was usually so good at concealing her emotions. Like right now. Her heart was pounding and her head was whirling, but on the outside she kept herself composed, aside from, perhaps, the ghastly pallor of her face. But that wasn't something most people would notice, she was sure.

"Okay, time to pair up," M. Chandelle said. "I know since most of you are freshman you don't know a lot of each other yet, so I've paired you up today to avoid last week's little fiasco. Let me see, where is my list…"

Wendy started worrying before he even began reading the list. True, she didn't know anyone in the room besides Tiger Lily—to whom she hadn't even been properly introduced—but she could always grab a random, scared freshman and pair up with her or him. With pre-made pairings, there was always the chance that she and Tiger Lily could be paired up. She felt herself crossing her fingers. Then she uncrossed them. That was silly. There were plenty of people in the class. The chance that the two of them would be paired up was nill to…

"Ms. Darling, you will be paired with Ms. Lily," M. Chandelle said.

Wendy swallowed and looked over at Tiger Lily. The girl gave her a bright, genuine smile and waved. She picked up her things and weaved through the students who were also trying to find their partners. She took the desk next to Wendy's and moved it closer so they could work together.

"Hi," Tiger said sweetly. "I'm Tiger Lily—you're Wendy, right?"

Wendy nodded, trying to be civil.

"Oh, I've heard so much about you!" Tiger Lily said, and Wendy was annoyed by the fact that the girl was giving her no real reason to dislike her. "Peter _really _adores you. I've been wanting to meet you for so long, but… I mean, I'm a bit shy so I didn't really know how to approach you."

"'So long'? What, like, a week?" Wendy said—it came out sounding much more rudely than she intended.

Tiger Lily looked taken aback, "Well, no, uh…"

"I mean, how long have you two been dating?" Wendy asked. "A couple days?"

"Well, we started dating over the summer," Tiger Lily said. "Um, it was a couple weeks after we met at the beach."

"Over… the summer?" Wendy said, then composed herself. "Oh. Right. I remember. I think he did say something about you."

Tiger Lily looked a little sad. But Wendy was lying. Peter hadn't mentioned a thing. Not a word. Not one hint that he was seeing someone. Why was he keeping it from his best friend?

"Oh, don't worry," Wendy said, suddenly feeling bad at seeing Tiger Lily's sad expression. "Peter is… well, he gets embarrassed about… romantic stuff. When he really likes a girl, he doesn't… say much."

Not true. Well. Peter didn't really have any romantic experience. At least, not that Wendy knew of. He had told her about girls he thought were cute, but, come to think of it, Wendy couldn't remember him ever mentioning being legitimately interested in dating any particular girl. Why was she comforting this girl? Why was she essentially _aiding _Tiger Lily and Peter's relationship? Well… She couldn't just break them up. As much as she would have liked for it to happen, it wasn't what a lady—a _true _lady—would do. And besides, if Peter was really invested in this relationship, then a break-up would make him sad. And Wendy didn't like seeing Peter sad. And if he wasn't invested in the relationship… well, then they would break up soon and Wendy would get her chance.

"That's sweet," Tiger Lily smiled. "Don't tell him, okay? But… I really like him. And I know you too are really, really close, so… I just wanted to get your approval. I would hate it if my boyfriend's best friend didn't want me to be with him."

"Of course you have my approval," Wendy said, half lying and half not—her emotions were all scrambled at this point. "I just want Peter to be happy, and you seem like a really nice girl. I'm sure you'll be good for each other."

"Oh, Wendy, thank you so much," Tiger Lily said, and leaned over to hug Wendy.

Wendy felt awkward as she limply hugged Tiger Lily back. She was actively sabotaging any chance she had of exposing her feelings to Peter this year. Maybe, subconsciously, she was doing it because she was afraid of the potential rejection and Tiger Lily was the perfect roadblock to sharing her affections. All that aside, the pair finally got to work on their worksheet. Tiger Lily seemed to have a knack for French, as Wendy did, and the two finished the worksheet a few minutes before the class ended.

"Well, I'm really glad I got to meet you," Tiger Lily said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other this year. Maybe if you start dating someone we can do some double dates?"

The idea of that made Wendy's heart and stomach flip, and not in a good way.

"Yeah, maybe," she said with a half-hearted smile. The bell rang. "Well. Nice to meet you. Bye!"

Wendy walked into the hallway. Once it was flooded with people and she was out of sight, she stormed quickly in the direction of her Spanish class. No longer needing to keep up the pleasant façade, she allowed her anger to show and to overtake all the other emotions.

"Peter Pan," she said loudly and seriously when she saw him, interrupting his friendly conversation with a cute Chinese girl. "We need to talk."

"Al… alright," Peter said, looking around.

"_Now_, please," Wendy said.

"Okay," Peter said as the Chinese girl wandered off and Wendy pulled him into a corner.

"Tiger Lily," Wendy said.

"What… about her?" Peter asked, looking slightly puzzled.

"She says you two are dating—since the summer," Wendy said. "Is this true?"

"Well… yeah," Peter said. "It's not a big deal."

"_Not _a big deal?" Wendy asked. "I'm your best friend—you didn't think it would be a good idea to tell your best friend that you were dating someone?"

"I didn't realize I needed to update you on all my dating activities," Peter said stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.

"You don't," Wendy admitted. "But I would just think that you would want to tell me about your first girlfriend—if she even is your first."

"She is," Peter said. "I just… Well, I didn't tell _anyone_, Wendy. I didn't really know how to… bring it up. Is there some reason why you think I _shouldn't _be dating her?"

"No," Wendy said, perhaps too quickly. "I mean… no. I just met her, and she seems like a really nice girl. Really sweet. Definitely… your type. I'm just a little disappointed that you told her about me but you didn't tell me about her."

"You didn't tell her I hadn't mentioned her to you, did you?" Peter asked, looking worried.

"Well—I did," Wendy said. "I was surprised, I just sort of… _reacted_. But don't worry. I covered for you. I told her that when you really like a girl, you don't talk about it. Which I guess is true, as it turned out, so…"

"Yeah," Peter said, looking at his hands and smiling. He looked smitten, like he was remembering something. Wendy felt like she might throw up.

"Um," Wendy said, looking down the hallway. "I'm going to run to the bathroom real quick. I'll see you in Spanish."

"Okay," Peter said, then put his arms out for a hug.

Wendy was afraid Peter would feel the pounding of her heart against his chest as they hugged, but if he did, he didn't say anything. Wendy pulled away from the hug and hurried to the bathroom. By the time she got there, she no longer felt nauseous. She walked to the mirror and composed herself. Her reddish-brown curly hair was pulled into its usual ponytail. She pulled out the elastic, letting the curls fall around her shoulders. It wasn't the conservative look that her mother approved every morning, but her mother didn't have to know. If Plan A for winning Peter's heart wasn't going to work out, Wendy decided she'd have to invent a Plan B. And she'd do it with subtlety and grace. She would let Peter decide.


	8. Mulan, September 14 to 15

**VIII.** Mulan, September 14 to 15

* * *

After school on Tuesday, Mulan nervously made her way to the football field. The field sat behind the school, at the bottom of a hill. Mulan could see the school's football players practicing as she prepped herself for the conversation that was about to take place. She walked a little slower. When she reached the field, the coach, Mr. Hook, was yelling something to the team. Mulan knew all the players names, even the ones whom she'd never met. She'd done her research. The league Walt Disney High School was in was an eight-man football league, and the school currently had seven players. Most of the team was composed of seniors—Phoebus Chevalier, Gaston Viril, Kocoum Algonquin, Shang Li, and Tarzan Simius were all seniors. Mulan didn't know much about Phoebus, Kocoum, or Tarzan, but she'd heard nice things about them. Gaston was nasty to everyone and was well-known for it. And Shang… well, Shang was another story entirely. The only other members were Hercules Touolympou, a junior, and Chien-Po Bau, a sophomore like Mulan. Chien-Po was one of Mulan's closest friends. He spotted her standing on the sideline and gave her a subtle thumbs-up.

Mulan knew being a sophomore put her at a severe disadvantage. Being a girl put her at an even larger disadvantage. But the team needed an eighth player if they wanted to play in the first game of the season on Friday. They needed her. Well, they needed _someone_. Coach Hook finished his speech and walked to the sidelines, fingering his mustache as he looked curiously at Mulan. He didn't say anything to her, though. He simply turned and looked back out onto the field to watch the team practice. Mulan would have to initiate the conversation.

"Um, Mr. Hook, sir?" Mulan said.

"What is it?" he asked, giving her a dismissive look.

"W—well sir," Mulan began. "I—I wanted to try out for the football team."

She finished the sentence with confidence, forcing herself to stand up straight and trying to look and feel as strong as possible. Mr. Hook looked her up and down, then quite literally laughed in her face.

"Sir?"

"You can't be serious," Hook said, trying to contain his uproarious laughter.

"Well… I am," Mulan said stubbornly.

Hook pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his eyes, as tears of laughter were beginning to spring from the sides. Mulan started to feel herself becoming angry but kept her temper under control. The team had stopped what they were doing, distracted by the coach's laughter, and were now all staring in Mulan's direction. She thought she might melt into a puddle of embarrassment but, to her despair, it didn't happen.

"Little girl, tryouts were last month—and that's the least of your problems," Hook said.

"I know you need another player," Mulan said. "You can't play on Friday without someone else, so why _not _me?"

"Do you need me to _list _the reasons?" Hook asked, raising his false hand to his mouth as he yawned. "You're a tiny little girl, Ms… what is it?"

"Fa."

"Ms. Fa. You seem to have forgotten that you are a _girl_. This is a football team. In order to compete on Friday, we need eight _men_. And we'll find our eighth man yet. There are plenty of guys at the school who would _love _to be on the team, and I'm sure we'll find one who's good enough. Better than you certainly."

"Mr. Hook, you haven't even seen me play," Mulan said, her rage clearly showing on her face. "And you don't _need _eight men. I've got the official rules right here, and nowhere does it specify that the members of the team need to be men. So you have no reason not to let me on the team besides your own bigotry—you're being _sexist_, Mr. Hook."

"Coach, we _do _need a kicker," Chien-Po walked up and interrupted in his quiet voice, giving Mulan a smile. "I've seen Mulan play, and—"

"Who _asked _you?" Mr. Hook looked at Chien-Po with disdain. "No, there will be no _little girls _on this team's football team. We don't need to be the laughingstock of the league."

Mulan looked at the other team members, who were all huddled around, staring at a distance. She felt angry at them, too, for not standing up for her.

"Do you all think this is okay?" she asked. "Is no one else going to say something?"

"I agree with Coach Hook," Gaston said. "Why don't you go find a kitchen and stay there?"

"Who asked you?" Mulan shouted angrily.

"While I think Gaston's sexist comments are completely unnecessary…" Shang said. "I think Mr. Hook _does _have a point, though a poorly stated one. But Mr. Hook, if I may… We need to have a tryout either way in order to find our eighth player. Why not let Mulan come to the tryout and show us what she can do? Either she'll prove that you were right and you can choose one of the guys, or she'll prove you wrong and we'll have a great new kicker."

Mr. Hook fiddled with his mustache, looking annoyed.

"Fine," he said. "The tryout will be tomorrow immediately after school. Spread the word to your friends. And Mulan is invited to come and make a fool out of herself if she so pleases."

"I'll be there," she said stubbornly, then turned and made her way back up to the parking lot.

* * *

Mr. Hook seemed disappointed with the number of people who turned up at the tryout, but Mulan was ecstatic. Thomas Bale, a junior, was there. Mulan sized him up. He was pretty scrawny, though as a kicker he might be okay. It seemed as though he was only there to insult Kocoum, though. Mulan couldn't quite figure out why. He went first and proved to be no competition for Mulan. She felt her confidence rise. Eric Sømand was, by his own admission, only there because Hercules had told him to try out—he was more of a soccer fan and didn't know much about football. It showed.

"Hi. Flynn Rider."

Mulan looked to her side to see a tall brunette with a goatee giving her a toothy smile and extending a hand to shake. She shook it warily. Cockiness was not a very attractive trait as far as Mulan was concerned.

"Mulan," she responded.

"So… one of these guys your boyfriend?" Flynn asked. "Who are you here for?"

"Me," Mulan said, annoyed.

"Excuse me?" Flynn asked.

"I'm here for me," Mulan said. "I'm trying out."

"Oh… oh! I'm sorry," Flynn said. "I didn't mean to… I mean. That's great! Good for you. Good luck!"

He shuffled off awkwardly. Mulan rolled her eyes. Weirdo. She could just tell that he only wanted to be on the team for the status, and that would be his downfall. It wasn't about football, and he didn't _really _want it. Mulan really did. She watched Flynn try out. He was okay. He certainly wasn't _bad_, but she knew she could do better.

When her name was called, she proved it. There were people _cheering _for her. Some of the guys who were already on the team were clapping—not just Chien-Po. They hadn't made any sort of applause for any of the other guys who were trying out. She had this. She _had _it. If Mr. Hook didn't choose her to be on the team, she would _make _him choose her because of everyone who had tried out, she was the best, and everyone knew it. Even him.

"I'm going to consider all of you… worthy candidates," Mr. Hook said, giving Mulan a positively evil sneer. "Come back in ten minutes and I will announce my decision."

Mulan turned and headed for the school building to get a water from the vending machine. She heard someone jogging up behind her. Unsure if they were trying to catch up with her or planning to jog by, she didn't turn and look.

"Hey."

It was Shang.

"Hi."

"You were great out there," he assured her. "You don't have anything to worry about. Hook's not going to be able to say no after that performance. He'd be a fool not to let you join the team."

Mulan smiled and looked at the ground to hide the fact that she was blushing.

"Thanks," she said.

"I can't wait to have you on the team," Shang said. "You're just what we need… See you."

He turned and jogged back down to the field. Mulan felt like fireworks were going off inside her. She shook her head. She would need to have a clear head during football games, so she'd have to get Shang off her mind. She reached the building, paid for her water, and headed back to down to the field to hear the inevitable results.

"The eighth member of the Walt Disney High School football team will be…" Mr. Hook looked directly at Mulan. "Flynn Rider."

The members of the team and those trying out all looked completely shocked. Flynn appeared to be the most surprised of all.

"Er, if you don't mind me asking…" Flynn interjected. "Why? I mean, I want to be on the team and everything, but… I know Mulan was much better than I was."

Mr. Hook shot Flynn an annoyed glance, "Because I said so, that's why."

"Mr. Hook, you aren't being fair," Kocoum said, stepping up. "To Mulan _or _to the team. Of all the candidates, Mulan is the best choice to help us _win_. And let's be honest, that's what this is all about. She deserves the spot _way _more than any of these other guys—no offense, Flynn."

"None taken."

"And to give the position to anyone but her is just foolish."

Mulan felt like she could just run up and hug Kocoum. But she didn't. Mr. Hook didn't look like he was ready to give in and give Mulan the position. He scowled at Kocoum. Mulan was afraid for a moment that Hook might whack Kocoum in the face. It looked like he wanted to.

"Sir, if you don't let Mulan have the eighth position on the team, I'll… I'll leave the team," Chien-Po said.

"You can be replaced," Mr. Hook said with the wave of a hand.

"Can _I _be replaced?" Shang asked, stepping forward. "I'm with Chien-Po—no Mulan, no me."

Mr. Hook's mouth contorted into a twisted shape, creating a bizarre expression of frustration. Kocoum, Hercules, and Tarzan stepped up to agree with Chien-Po and Shang, knowing that Mr. Hook would _have _to let Mulan join because without the star football team, Hook was nobody at this school. Nothing but a lowly physics teacher.

"Fine!" Mr. Hook finally shouted. "Mulan—you're on the team. But one wrong move—one _single _slip up, and you're gone! I can't have a _woman _ruining plays."

Mulan felt a mixture of happiness and anger. She was ecstatic to be on the team, but she wasn't sure if she could put up with this every day. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr. Hook would continue his sexist tirades and do all he could to make Mulan's life a living hell. But no. She could deal with it. It wouldn't be a problem.

"When's my first practice?" Mulan asked, not giving Mr. Hook the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Tomorrow, after school. Practice every weekday except for game days," Mr. Hook said. "Unless you can't handle that."

"Oh, believe me, I can," Mulan said assuredly.

* * *

One thing she wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle was her family's reaction. She lived with her mom and dad and her grandmother. Her parents always seemed to want her to be especially feminine. Mulan _was _pretty feminine in a lot of ways. She liked dressing up, she wore make-up, she had relatively long hair that fell mid-way down her back. She had no problem with girly things—she wasn't a tomboy in that way. But she liked being active as well. She liked sports, and she especially liked football. It seemed as though her parents' number-one priority, however, was to discourage Mulan's interest in football.

But she had to tell them. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret from them and, honestly, she wanted to be able to look up at the stands on game day and see her parents smiling, waving, and cheering her on. That was obviously a long way off, but maybe if she gave them a little time they would grow to be okay with it.

"I have something to say," she said, putting her spoon down on the table at dinner. Her parents looked at her expectantly and she took a deep breath. "I tried out for the football team today."

Her parents groaned.

"Mulan, honey, that's… it's just not reasonable to think that you'd be able to do something like that," her mother said. "Football is for men. Of course you wouldn't—"

"I made it, actually," Mulan said, quite annoyed at her mother's pessimism.

"You _what_?" her father said.

"I made the team," Mulan said, sitting up straight. "There's a game on Friday, and I'm going to play in it, whether you're there supporting me or not."

She put two tickets to the game down on the table and stood.

"You _cannot _do this," her father said. "I _forbid_ it!"

"Try and stop me," Mulan said through gritted teeth, then headed to her bedroom and slammed the door, locking it behind her.

She walked to the vanity and looked in the mirror. There were tears forming in her eyes, but she pushed them back. She looked down and saw a small pair of scissors. She picked them up, hesitating. She pulled a strand of her black hair forward and held it at about shoulder length. Then she brought the scissors up and cut.


	9. Flynn, September 17

**IX.** Flynn, September 17

* * *

Flynn Rider was the new guy, and he took full advantage of the intrigue that came along with that title. People were interested, so he tried his best to hold that interest for as long as he could. He flirted, told wild stories about things he had done at his old school, none of which were even faintly true. He flashed his charming smile and quickly had plenty of girls practically falling at his feet. He decided to stick to the single path for a while—wouldn't want to jump into a relationship too soon. It was only the end of the second week, after all. Flynn Rider. It was a good name. It was common but unique, dashing and mysterious. Charming. It had the sound of adventure. Flynn Rider was clearly the name of someone very special.

Unfortunately, it wasn't his. No, this particular Flynn Rider wasn't a Flynn Rider at all. His real name—the one he was born with—was Eugene Fitzherbert. But that name wasn't dashing or mysterious or charming or adventurous. It was, all in all, rather plain, and young Eugene was a rather plain boy. He was forgettable and, truthfully, a bit dorky, wearing glasses, reading fantasy novels, and obsessing over television shows about time-traveling extraterrestrials. Transferring schools had been the perfect opportunity to completely change who he was—a complete makeover, starting with his name and ending with his confidence. Registering under the name "Flynn Rider" hadn't been as difficult as he'd thought, and pretending to be a different person—more someone out of a movie than his old, boring self—had been surprisingly simple. The transformation from Eugene to Flynn was surprisingly smooth and natural. He was, apparently, a gifted actor. Unfortunately joining theater would ruin his new image.

Joining the football team, however, would be a definite plus… Unfortunately he had personally sabotaged that plan by pointing out how much better Mulan was and basically backing up her supporters. That wasn't necessarily a negative, however, because apparently girls like guys who support women's rights or something… which totally wasn't what he was trying to do, but he figured he'd go with it. By now the whole school knew about Flynn's "heroic act" two days ago at football practice. The story had been significantly embellished, but he wasn't about to correct anyone.

"Hey! Flynn! Going to the game tonight?"

"Thinking about it," he said, turning to greet Naveen, the first _male _he had befriended at Walt Disney High School. "I don't have a ride, though. My car's in the—um, shop."

He didn't actually have a car. But having a car was cool so it would work well if people thought he did.

"Ah, what's wrong with it?" Naveen asked.

"The, um, breaks are—"

"Never mind," Naveen said. "I actually know nothing about cars, I was just making rather dull conversation."

Flynn laughed nervously, then composed himself, "So, are you going?"

"Definitely," Naveen said. "Any kind of party and I'm there—and I've heard it's going to be a good time. Football isn't one of my favorite sports but… It should be fun. I'm actually leaving early to go to a pregame. Want to come along?"

"Leaving early?" Flynn asked obliviously.

"Skipping class, of course," Naveen whispered.

"Oh! Of course," Flynn said.

Skipping class was the cool thing to do. He always knew this, but he'd never done it at his old school. It wasn't that he wouldn't have—although maybe he was a bit of a goody two-shoes back then. But he was never given the opportunity, either way, so he never knew what his answer would have been. But that was Eugene. Eugene was a different person, and Flynn Rider was definitely the type of person who would skip class. It was daring. Adventurous. Whatever. He was doing it.

"Yeah, sounds like fun," Flynn said.

There was only one class left for the day, anyway. No one would notice he was gone. Especially since so many other kids would also be gone. He followed Naveen out to the parking lot. He tried to remember the things he had heard about skipping class.

_Act natural. Pretend you're supposed to be leaving. If you look confident, no one will stop you. After all, plenty of kids with internships or… whatever… leave during school and no one stops them because they're _supposed _to be leaving and they look like it. Yeah. Keep it cool. Keep it calm._

"Flynn?"

"Huh—wha?"

"I asked you if you'd met Jasmine yet," Naveen said. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm—fine," Flynn said. "I'm cool. Just—got distracted for a minute. Um, Jasmine… It rings a bell. Maybe?"

"Well, it's her party we're going to," Naveen said. "Jasmine always throws the best parties. You'll learn that soon enough. And she throws them _all _the time. Her father is out of town a lot on business so she throws several big parties a month. Sometimes they do get a bit wild but… that's the fun of it, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Flynn forced a laugh.

He could never admit it, but Flynn was not very experienced with alcohol. Frankly he wasn't experienced with it at all. Back at his old school he had never been invited to parties or had any opportunities to be within ten feet of an open bottle of beer so it was no wonder he had never done the whole "partying" thing. This past summer, he had stolen some of his parents' alcohol, just enough so that he could water it down without them noticing, in preparation for his future of being cool. But that hadn't given him very much, only enough to feel a slight buzz. So this party would be a defining moment—his first party at Walt Disney High School. He knew it would be a feat to not make a fool out of himself. He'd have to make it look like he was drinking more than he actually was and… he'd figure things out when he got there.

Flynn took his seat on the passenger side of Naveen's car. Naveen pulled out of the parking lot then sped down the road. Flynn glanced a bit nervously at the speedometer but kept his mouth shut. There was hardly anyone on the roads at this time of day, and hopefully no cops hoping to catch unruly drivers, either. Naveen seemed to be betting on that, anyway. Flynn leaned back and looked out the window. It was less than a ten minute drive to Jasmine's house, and Flynn could tell they must be nearing it when they began driving through a neighborhood full of posh mansions and well-manicured lawns.

"Here we are," Naveen said, pulling into the wrap-around driveway of the largest house on the street.

The house had enormous lawns on all sides and perfect little flowerbeds that must have been cared for by a professional gardener. Flynn sat in awe of the towering white house for a moment before finally opening his door and stepping out of the car. Flynn looked down the driveway. There weren't _too _many cars there. Looked like it wasn't going to be a crazy party, after all. Which was good in some ways, but… with less people, it would be harder to pretend he was drinking when he wasn't.

Flynn followed Naveen up the path to the front door. Naveen rang the doorbell and Flynn made sure his shirt was straightened out. First impressions—important. Apparently this Jasmine girl was a big deal. The door swung open.

"Naveen! Hi!" Jasmine said, giving him an enthusiastic hug. "So glad you could make it. And who's this? Your date?"

"I'm not—we're not—"

"She's kidding, Flynn," Naveen patted his friend on the shoulder. "Jasmine, this is my friend Flynn Rider. He's just moved to town."

"I've heard a few things about you. Nice to meet you," Jasmine said with a smile. "You're a senior, right?"

"Yes," Flynn said nervously, not able to come up with some clever remark as he would have liked to.

"Good," she nodded. "This pre show is for seniors only—well, and their dates, of course. Won't you come in? I'll introduce you to some people."

Flynn and Naveen stepped into the house and Jasmine led them to a giant living room, where people were sitting and standing around, many of them sipping from plastic cups. There were open bottles of a variety of alcoholic drinks haphazardly arranged on tables throughout the room. A redheaded boy came over and slipped an arm around Jasmine's waist. Flynn recognized him from football tryouts but he couldn't remember his name. He nodded to Naveen and looked at Flynn curiously.

"Thomas, this is the new guy, Flynn," Jasmine said.

"Oh yeah," Thomas said. "You're the guy from the football tryouts, huh? That was… nice what you did for Mulan."

"Aren't you a junior, Thomas?" Naveen asked with a faint hint of distaste in his voice.

"Thomas is my date," Jasmine smiled. "It's allowed. It's _my _party anyway, so my rules."

She pulled away from Thomas and grabbed Flynn excitedly by the arm.

"Come on," she said. "I'll introduce you to some people."

Naveen and Thomas wandered off to socialize or whatever and Flynn allowed himself to be dragged along by Jasmine. He wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing to be receiving this much attention from her. It could be good because there was the potential for a popularity-boosting friendship there. But then there was always the chance that he would say or do something really stupid and ruin his chances. He had made it this far, though. He had adapted well to being Flynn Rider and he could surely keep it up if he just stopped worrying so much.

"Flynn, this is Charming Charmeuse," Jasmine said.

"Most people call me Charm," he said with a slight smile, standing to shake Flynn's hand. "Nice to meet you—I heard about…"

"The football tryouts, yeah, it seems everyone did," Flynn said, wondering if he would ever be known as anyone but that-guy-who-could-have-been-on-the-football-team.

"Well, I think it was the right thing to do," Charm said. "It's what any gentleman would do."

"Thanks… I guess," Flynn said.

Jasmine dragged Flynn along to meet other people. She introduced him to John Smith, apparently Thomas's best friend. The two were standing by the window chatting when Jasmine and Flynn approached. John Smith was relatively quiet, with chiseled features and blond hair. He didn't have much to say. He didn't mention the football incident. Next was a slim girl with long, wavy brown hair standing next to the couch.

"Flynn, Vanessa, Vanessa, Flynn," Jasmine said with a flourishing gesture.

"Pleasure," Vanessa said in a voice that seemed to indicate that there was nothing pleasurable about it. Her voice itself was very beautiful, but there was a harshness to it which made her words sound nasty. "This is Eric."

Flynn looked down and found a black-haired man sitting on the couch next to Vanessa. His somewhat slouching position next to her, standing straight up, made him appear very small in comparison.

"Eric is a junior, but he and Vanessa are dating, so…" Jasmine trailed off with a shrug.

"It's… our first date, actually," Eric said.

Jasmine shrugged, smiling, "Whatever."

Jasmine introduced Flynn to another couple, Phoebus and Esme, and to a buff boy named Tarzan whom Flynn recognized as a member of the football team. Phoebus was a member of the team as well, but Flynn didn't remember him until he, too, had to bring up what was quickly becoming Flynn's least favorite topic. Ever.

"Would you like a drink, Flynn?" Jasmine asked, grabbing a clean cup off a side table.

"Uhh… sure," Flynn said, surveying the wide selection. "Just beer is fine, thanks."

"Let's go grab a cold one from the kitchen," Jasmine smiled. "We can share."

She grabbed a cup for herself then led Flynn towards the kitchen. She opened the enormously wide fridge and grabbed a fresh bottle, pouring some into each of the cups. She handed one to Flynn and took a sip from her own.

"Come help me pick something to wear for the game," Jasmine said—it wasn't a question.

"O—okay," Flynn said, following Jasmine as he sipped nervously from his cup.

He followed her down hallways and up stairs until he was sure he couldn't find his way back to the living room on his own. Jasmine led Flynn into her room and sat him down on the edge of her bed. She put her cup down and headed into the walk-in closet. When she walked back out, she had traded the short blue-green dress she'd had on for a white tank-top and a pair of short shorts.

"How's this?" she asked, twirling.

"Um… well I heard it might get a little chilly out tonight," Flynn said, swallowing. "You might want to put on something a little… a little warmer."

"Hmm," Jasmine said, stepping back into the closet for a moment. "How about this?"

She stepped out wearing even less. The shorts were still there, but the tank-top was lost and all that was left was a red bikini top—or was it a bra? She stepped towards Flynn. Definitely a bra.

"Uhh—umm," Flynn felt himself slipping into Eugene mode—how would _Flynn Rider _react to a half-naked woman walking towards him? He would probably be a lot smoother than this.

"What's the matter?" Jasmine laughed.

Flynn stood, looking between Jasmine and the door. Should he say something? Leave? He was at a complete loss about how to react, and he didn't have much time to make a decision. Jasmine was standing in front of Flynn now, and she put a hand on his shoulder, then moved it to his neck. She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and then pulled him forward and kissed him. Flynn was practically paralyzed by shock for a moment, then pulled away, pushing Jasmine's arms away from him.

"Jasmine, what are you _doing_?" he asked. "Aren't you dating Thomas?"

Jasmine shrugged, "I wouldn't call it that. We're not really exclusive—it's sort of an open relationship."

"And you just sleep with whoever you feel like, huh?"

"I… guess you could put it that way," Jasmine said.

"Something's wrong here," Flynn said, walking over to the closet and picking up the tank-top off the ground. "You're a nice girl, Jasmine—I can tell."

Flynn handed her the shirt and she put it on begrudgingly.

"Yeah? What would you know about it?" she asked.

"It's obvious," Flynn said. "Why do you do it?"

Jasmine crossed her arms and looked away, "I don't really feel like discussing it with someone I barely know."

"But you were okay with having sex with someone you barely know?" Flynn said, surprised by his own bluntness. "Those are some messed-up priorities."

Jasmine sighed.

"And you know it, don't you?" Flynn asked. "So why do you do it? Do you enjoy it?"

"I… I guess," Jasmine said. "Well. I used to. But then…"

Flynn could see tears forming under her lower eyelids. She squeezed her eyes shut and they were gone.

"I lost something that was pretty important to me," Jasmine said, looking up at Flynn. "Someone, I guess. The only one I really had."

"You can tell me," Flynn said. "I know how to keep a secret, believe me."

Jasmine came over and sat down on the bed and Flynn sat next to her, putting a comforting arm around her and giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"I don't know why I started doing it," Jasmine said, leaning against Flynn. "I was lonely, I guess. My father is always gone, and… the only one I ever had was Aladdin. He was the best thing I ever had, and I blew it. I don't know, I just… I know I can't expect him to be around all the time—I'd never expect that from anyone, but… whenever he wasn't around… If there was another option, I started taking it. And then it became… sort of a game. I started to _need _it. It sounds stupid…"

"It's okay."

"I was okay with not being able to see Aladdin because it meant I'd have a chance to see someone else. It was sort of thrilling, I guess… I'm a horrible person."

"I'm not going to tell you that what you did was right," Flynn said. "But you clearly recognize that what you did was wrong—so you aren't a horrible person."

"Now that Aladdin's gone, though… Nothing is right. He caught me cheating on him, and… Ever since then, nothing has made me feel completely better. I don't know if anything ever will."

"It will get better," Flynn said. "I promise. But you have to work on making connections—it can't be all about the physical stuff. You need to slow it down."

"I guess you're right," Jasmine said.

"I know I am," Flynn said with a smile. "Now go put some warmer clothes on."

Jasmine headed back into her closet and shut the door. Flynn exhaled deeply, hardly believing the conversation that just took place. It was so effortless. Everything he had said was genuine. Was that Flynn or Eugene? He wasn't even sure which was which anymore. Maybe he could be a bit of both. Eugene's heart and Flynn's cool factor. Although that could have easily backfired. He was lucky that Jasmine had taken it as well as she had.

Once Jasmine had changed her outfit, she and Flynn headed back to the living room. When they arrived back downstairs together, Naveen gave Flynn a raised-eyebrow look, and Flynn subtly shook his head. Phoebus and Tarzan had left earlier to head to the school, so Jasmine led the eight remaining guests outside and everyone piled into their respective cars. It didn't seem as if Naveen had had a chance to drink at all, so Flynn didn't worry as he climbed into the driver's seat. The group followed each others' cars all the way to the school and parked near each other. The parking lot was crowded with cars and with students and parents walking from their cars to the field. A lot of students were greeting each other and waving to friends. A tall, black-haired girl with caramel skin ran up to give John a hug. Flynn could see just a hint of a tattoo on her arm right under her t-shirt. He hadn't seen her before around school, and she was pretty distinctive looking.

The group headed to the field and got seats in the bleachers together. If he was being honest, Flynn spent more time scanning the crowd and people-watching than he did concentrating on the game. He didn't have much interest in football, actually. Playing it could be kind of fun sometimes, but watching it was a total drag. He would root his school's team on, of course, but he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to what was going on on the field. When he was paying even the slightest attention, it was because he was interested in how Mulan was doing. He knew she was a good player, but he was slightly worried that the pressure might get to her. It didn't. She was doing really, really well. In the end, the home team won and the students in the bleachers erupted into loud cheering.

Jasmine was, of course, having another party to celebrate the win, and she flitted around the exiting crowd inviting everyone she recognized—and some people she didn't—to come along. Flynn watched her with a smile, hoping their conversation had had at least some lasting impact. Flynn started to drift away from the crowd, walking towards the road.

"Hey, Flynn, you coming?" Naveen called.

"Nah, I think I'll skip this one," Flynn said. "You go ahead—I can walk home, it's not too far. And it's a nice night."

"Suit yourself!" Naveen shrugged and headed back into the crowd.

Flynn smiled to himself and headed for home.


	10. Pocahontas, September 18 to 20

**X.** Pocahontas, September 18 to 20

* * *

"Truth or dare?"

Pocahontas looked at her best friend Nakoma, who had posed the question, then around at the others sitting around the bonfire. It was a small Saturday night gathering at Pocahontas's house between some close friends. John Smith and Thomas were there, as well as Charm and Aurora Églantine, his date for the night. Apparently he had asked her out earlier in the week. Something about them didn't quite match up. In theory, they were very compatible, but the way they were awkwardly holding hands now suggested it wouldn't last. They were friends to begin with, so Pocahontas hoped the inevitable breakup wouldn't ruin that. But she doubted it would. Aurora dated lots of guys—not seriously, and not in a slutty way—but usually it didn't go past one or two dates, and things almost always ended amicably. Kocoum had been invited to the gathering as well, of course, but there was some kind of rift running between him and John and Thomas right now that Pocahontas didn't really want to get involved with, so she didn't press him when he said he didn't want to come.

Actually, to say she didn't want to get involved was kind of pointless—she already was involved and she knew it, even though she didn't want to admit that. So she pretended she didn't know that it was all about her. It had become apparent recently that both John and Kocoum were interested in Pocahontas, though she hadn't done anything to encourage either of them. Truth be told, she wasn't interested in either of them. They were two of her closest friends, that was all, and she hoped the silly feud would be over soon so they could be a group again.

"Truth."

John leaned over and whispered in Nakoma's ear. She smiled and nodded.

"Okay," she said to John, then looked at Pocahontas. "Who are you into right now?"

Pocahontas blushed, "Into?"

"You know what I mean!" Nakoma said, giving her a playful punch on the arm. "Who do you like?"

"Oh," Pocahontas said, looking down at her hands. "I—I'm not really interested in anyone right now."

Nakoma squealed, "Yes you are! Look at her face, she's lying!"

"Alright, I'll take a dare then," Pocahontas said defiantly, making a face at Nakoma.

"You can't do that, that's cheating!" Nakoma said, giggling.

Pocahontas looked over at John. He wasn't laughing. In fact, he looked rather serious. Oh dear. Maybe he was getting the wrong impression. Maybe he thought the reason Pocahontas wouldn't say who she was interested in was because that person was here, and that person was him. Or maybe he thought she was interested in Kocoum and didn't want to hurt him. Either way, it wasn't what Pocahontas wanted. She didn't want him to think of her that way. She wanted it to stop because she didn't want him to get hurt and she knew she would never be able to think of him that way.

"Give me two dares then!" Pocahontas said.

"Fine," Nakoma grumbled, then turned to John to consult with him about what would be fitting dares to punish her with.

"Okay, first, you've got to sing us a little song," Nakoma said.

"Alright," Pocahontas shrugged, comfortable enough with her singing abilities that she wasn't at all worried. "What song?"

"Well we don't want you to sing so much as—" Nakoma looked over at John and giggled. "Rap."

"Oh my god, no," Pocahontas said, somewhat horrified.

"Then you've got to tell us who you like!" Nakoma said.

"Alright, alright," Pocahontas said. "What song?"

"'Super Bass,'" Nakoma grinned.

Pocahontas sighed, took a deep breath, and recited the first verse of the song. Needless to say, she was no Nicki Minaj. John was smiling by the end, while Thomas and Charm were both laughing uproariously and Aurora and Nakoma were in fits of giggles.

"Happy?" Pocahontas tried to put an annoyed voice on, but she was smiling too.

"Very—that was _bad_," Nakoma said. "Don't ever take up a career in rap music."

"I wasn't planning to," Pocahontas rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "Who's next?"

"Hey, hang on—you said two dares," Nakoma reminded her—not that she needed to be reminded. Of course she _remembered_, but she was hoping no one would call her out and they could just move on.

"Alright, what is it?"

Thomas was leaning over John to whisper to Nakoma now.

"No!" she said, laughing, then paused a moment while Thomas said something else. "Oh—alright, alright."

Thomas looked smug as he sat back in his chair.

"So?" Pocahontas said, bracing herself for whatever they were planning to throw her way.

"You and Nakoma—kissing—with tongue—thirty seconds," Thomas said.

Pocahontas's mouth fell open slightly in surprise, then she closed it and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Nakoma slid her fold-up chair over so that it was next to Pocahontas's. Pocahontas looked her best friend in the eye and could feel her heart beating quicker in anticipation. She hoped it wasn't obvious. Nakoma smiled slightly.

"You ready?" she asked quietly, so no one else could hear.

Pocahontas gave a subtle nod. Nakoma leaned closer and their lips connected. Pocahontas could hardly believe this was real. She felt Nakoma's mouth opening and opened her own. Instinctively her hand went to the back of Nakoma's neck and pulled her closer. She became aware of Nakoma's hand resting casually on her thigh. Her entire mind was focused on Nakoma and she had forgotten that anyone else was even there. Nakoma's hand moved to Pocahontas's face. Suddenly Pocahontas remembered where she was and pulled abruptly away. How long had that been? Surely it was more than thirty seconds.

"Well, that was about a minute and a half, but I wouldn't have stopped either," Thomas said with a grin.

"Oh, shut up, Thomas," Nakoma said, though for once Pocahontas was thankful that Thomas was there to lighten the mood.

John looked a bit stunned for a moment or two, then hid his expression of surprise behind his usual serious look. Pocahontas hoped everyone would just forget about the kiss but… that didn't seem like a likely outcome. She turned to Aurora, the next in the circle.

"Truth or dare?"

* * *

"So who was it?" Nakoma asked.

"Hm?" Pocahontas turned to look at her friend, yawning.

The two were lying in Pocahontas's bed in their pajamas. Everyone else had gone home and they had both brushed their teeth and were ready to go to sleep. But, as with all of their sleepovers, the time between crawling into bed and going to sleep was the time for talking. About anything. It was one of the few times they got to just _talk_, one-on-one, with no distractions.

"The guy you like," Nakoma said, and Pocahontas could just barely see her smile illuminated by the bit of moonlight streaming through the window.

"Oh—it's no one," Pocahontas said. "It's not even a big deal."

"It's John, isn't it?" Nakoma asked.

"No, it isn't John," Pocahontas said. "I know he likes me but—"

She allowed the sentence to hang in the air unfinished. She didn't know how to finish it. She just shrugged.

"So _who _then?" Nakoma asked, propping her head up on her hand and laying sideways to look at Pocahontas.

"I don't want to tell you," Pocahontas admitted.

"Come _on_," Nakoma said. "We're not little kids anymore, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're my best friend. You know you can trust me. I can keep a secret."

"I know," Pocahontas said. "I'm just—not ready to talk about it yet. I haven't told anyone. I want to see how things… play out first. Then I'll tell you. I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," Nakoma relented. "Just tell me one thing—it's not Kocoum, is it?"

"No, it's not Kocoum," Pocahontas said sincerely.

Nakoma nodded, put her head down on the pillow, and closed her eyes. Pocahontas looked at her. She wanted to reach out and brush her hair behind her ear. No, she wanted to lean over and kiss her. But she couldn't, and she wouldn't. _That guy you like. _That was what Nakoma had said. She had no idea that it wasn't a guy Pocahontas liked at all. That Pocahontas wasn't even remotely interested in guys, as she had finally admitted to herself last year. Finally admitted that no matter how much she tried to like guys, tried to enjoy kissing them and thinking about them, it just wasn't going to happen. She wouldn't be able to fit into what society deemed "normal." She finally admitted to herself that she wasn't just "into" her best friend. She didn't just "like" her. She was hopelessly infatuated, and possibly even in love with, Nakoma. She could still hardly deal with the idea, with knowing that Nakoma would never feel the same way.

It was kissing John last year, actually, that had made Pocahontas finally realize that she was a lesbian. That had been a mistake. It was John that had made the move, naturally, but Pocahontas hadn't resisted or tried to move away. He had kissed her and she had kissed back, trying to get into it. Trying to want him. Because if she couldn't make herself interested in John, then she knew there was no way she could be interested in any guy. In retrospect, she was sorry she had done it. She should have known better with all the evidence pointing her towards an exclusive interest in women, but she still had to _try_, didn't she? And now John was interested. Surely he was interested before, but now she had kissed him back so maybe she was interested too. But she wasn't. At all. And the only way she felt like she could make it up to him—the fact that she had led him on like that—would be to tell him the truth. Somehow.

Pocahontas closed her eyes, but her racing thoughts kept her awake. She knew eventually—maybe hours from now—she would drift off to sleep, but she wasn't sure her dreams would be any better than this. She opened her eyes again and looked over at Nakoma. She was definitely sleeping now. She breathed slowly and her expression was calm. Pocahontas reached over carefully and brushed her hair back. She smiled. She leaned forward slowly, cautiously, and gently gave her best friend a goodnight kiss.

* * *

Nakoma left early the next morning after eating breakfast. As soon as she left, Pocahontas sat down at her desk and took out a pen and paper. She sat like that for a long time, holding the pen millimeters over the surface of the paper, hesitant. She didn't even know where to begin.

"Well, let's start with the obvious," she muttered to herself.

_Dear Nakoma, _she wrote at the top of the page. Dear? That seemed a bit formal. She scrunched up her face, crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash next to her desk. _Nakoma, _she wrote. She nodded. That was better.

It took nearly two hours, but she eventually was able to put her feeling into words in a way that she didn't think was too corny, too sentimental, too awkward, or too anything else. She read the letter over, feeling nervous in the most cliché way possible. A pitter-patter in her heart, butterflies in her stomach. But she had told Nakoma that she would eventually tell her who it was that she liked. And the sooner the better—the longer she waited, the less courageous she would feel. Tomorrow was as good a day as any. And tomorrow she would give Nakoma this letter.

She pulled an envelope from a drawer, put the letter in, and sealed it. There. It was final. She wrote Nakoma's name neatly on the front then paused to look at it for a moment before putting it into the front pocket of her backpack. Tomorrow morning. First thing in the morning. That was when she would do it.

Not wanting to think about it too much—knowing that would only make it harder to keep the promise she'd made to herself—Pocahontas decided to keep herself occupied with other things in the meantime. She committed herself rather intensely to her homework for a couple of hours, and then she snuggled up on the couch with a book until it got dark. By all accounts it was a rather boring Sunday, but she didn't mind at all, knowing that tomorrow would be decidedly not boring, and not necessarily in a good way.

* * *

It was easy to find Nakoma on Monday morning. Every morning the two girls met outside the main entrance to the palatial school building. Nakoma practically bounced over to Pocahontas when she saw her, looking ecstatic.

"Are you alright?" Pocahontas asked, laughing.

"I'm great—I have something I need to tell you," Nakoma said, smiling.

"I… have something to tell you, too," Pocahontas said.

"Let's go sit down," Nakoma said, and led Pocahontas over to a nearby bench.

"You go first," Pocahontas said, sitting next to Nakoma.

"Okay," Nakoma said. "So—this has sort of been going on for a while, and I wanted to tell you, but… Well. I wasn't really sure of anything until this weekend so I didn't want to say anything in case it was nothing, you know?"

"I… know exactly what you mean," Pocahontas said.

"Well… I'm… going out with Kocoum!"

"What?" Pocahontas said—of course she had understood, but… she was surprised. Nakoma had never mentioned an interest in Kocoum before.

"I've sort of been interested in him for a while," Nakoma admitted. "And… he and I have talked about dating a little bit before, but I was worried that you might be interested in him and I didn't want you to get hurt. But since you told me you weren't interested in him… I went to see him on Sunday, and, well… he asked me to Homecoming. And to be his girlfriend."

"That's… great, Nakoma," Pocahontas said, though she was afraid her words didn't sound convincing enough. "I'm really happy for you."

But she wasn't happy. Not at all. There were several things wrong with this. Firstly, Pocahontas knew that Kocoum was interested—at least in some capacity—in _her_. Maybe he had gotten over it, or maybe he was _getting _over it, but she was worried that if he did have any feelings for her at all, it was Nakoma that would be getting hurt. The other problem was that Nakoma's plan to _not _hurt Pocahontas had failed. Obviously Nakoma couldn't possibly know about Pocahontas's feelings since she hadn't said anything, but that couldn't stop it from hurting. She tried her best to keep her expression cool though—to not let on that she didn't actually approve of Nakoma and Kocoum as a couple. She couldn't tell Nakoma any of these things.

Pocahontas reached over and hugged Nakoma, congratulating her again. Then Pocahontas told her that she needed to get to class to talk to her teacher about an assignment, and she hurried off. She knew she couldn't keep up the charade for too long. She had to get used to the idea before she saw Nakoma again, so she could keep a straight face. And of course the letter was out of the question now. As soon as she got to the empty classroom, she took it out of her bag and ripped it into as many little pieces as she could manage and scattered them angrily into the trash.


	11. Aurora, September 20

**XI.** Aurora, September 20

* * *

Aurora leaned close to the mirror as she brushed the wand of mascara over her eyelashes. From behind her, she saw her friends Snow White and Ella Miroir push open the swinging door into the bathroom. They were so involved in chatting about some dress they had seen in the hallway that for a moment they didn't notice that Aurora was already here.

It was basically a tradition for the three girls to meet up in this same ladies' room every morning. They would meet there, freshen up, then head out to the lobby to socialize. To strangers, they may have looked like some elitist clique. But it was never a good idea to allow oneself to be deceived by appearances. The girls were always kind to anyone who approached them and none of them thought that they were better than anyone else. And Snow was truly a saint—Aurora honestly looked up to her a bit. While Aurora and Ella occasionally engaged in petty gossip, Snow was never one to talk about a person behind their back, even if the rumor wasn't a specifically negative one. Aurora had never heard Snow say a bad word about anyone, and she admired her for it. In theory, it should be an easy concept, but Aurora was surprised, when she paid attention, how easy it was to join in on a gossipy conversation.

"Hey Aurora!" Ella said, finally noticing her friend and skipping over to the mirror on her right.

This particular bathroom had exactly three stalls, three sinks, and three mirrors. Snow took the mirror to the left and pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick which she began to reapply.

"So how was your date with Charm?" Ella asked as she brushed on a bit of blush.

"Ugh—don't ask," Aurora said, then pouted to gloss her lips.

"That bad?" Ella looked at Aurora curiously.

"No, it's just—it was fine, I guess," Aurora said. "But he just isn't the guy for me. He's a really nice guy, really sweet, but—we're not really compatible, that's all. I like him more as a friend and I think he feels the same way about me."

"So who's next, then?" Ella asked, fluffing her hair.

Aurora knew Ella hadn't meant it to be rude or mean-spirited, but Aurora couldn't help but be a bit taken aback. _Who's next? _The perpetual question, it seems. Aurora wondered if she was becoming _that _girl. The one who was constantly dating a different guy. Was that even a thing? She wondered if she looked desperate to other people. That wasn't it at all. In reality, there were plenty of guys willing to date _her_, but she wanted to find the perfect guy. A fit. A match. Kind of the opposite of desperate. Maybe she looked like a bitch. Maybe people even thought she was a slut.

"No one," Aurora said, putting her hands defiantly on either side of the sink.

"What?" Ella looked over in surprise, putting her hairspray down. "You're giving up?"

"It feels like I've been on dates with just about every guy in this school," Aurora said, then begun to count on her fingers. "Charm, Eric, Hercules, John, Naveen, Phoebus, Shang, Tarzan, Thomas… All of them nice guys, but… Not the guys for _me_, you know? And I know I'm not the girl for any of them either."

Ella nodded absently, though Aurora wasn't sure she actually understood, "You forgot Gaston."

"_Don't _even mention Gaston—I try to forget _that _ever happened," Aurora said.

Talk about the date from hell. Why she had ever thought that was a good idea, she would never be able to figure out.

"But seriously," Aurora said. "I think… I'm going to wait a while. Yeah. I'm not going to do any more dating until college—at least. If I'm ever going to find my prince, it's certainly not going to be here."

"Oh, you never know, Aurora," Snow said in her most soothing voice, brushing Aurora's long golden locks back over her shoulder. "Maybe if you stop looking so hard for it, love will just fall into your lap."

Aurora smiled at her friend's kind words, "Thanks Snow, but… not all of us have it so easy. Are you ever going to tell us about the first time you and Prince met anyway?"

Snow smiled brightly and looked down, "Maybe some other day."

Aurora suspected the memory was so special to Snow that she just wanted to keep the memory all to herself. Aurora wanted something like that. And she could survive two years of not dating in order to find it. Two years—next year, she and Ella would be seniors and Snow would be gone off to college. It was weird to think that their trio would be split, but of course they would still keep in touch and hang out as much as possible. Aurora knew it wouldn't be the same without Snow, though.

"Your perfect match is out there somewhere," Snow assured Aurora with a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You just have to be patient and you'll find him. Or maybe he'll find you. But it will happen, I just know it will."

She thought it was a little corny and overly optimistic, but Aurora thanked Snow anyway. It was a nice thought. Aurora was okay with just sticking to dreaming for now, though. It was only high school, after all. While most other students were only concerned with dating for fun, Aurora was really looking for "the one." It was silly—she _knew _it was silly—but she couldn't help feeling that way. All the more reason to wait. After all, if there was some person out there who she was meant to be with, their paths would cross eventually, wouldn't they? Somehow they would find each other without trying.

Aurora found herself unable to focus for most of the day. She couldn't stop thinking about the decision she had made and whether she would follow through with it. Seeing the guys she had previously dated throughout the day was actually kind of helpful in building her resolve. Since she wasn't dating anymore, she wouldn't have the opportunity to hurt any nice guys—at least not in a deeper way than a simple rejection—or to be subjected to the rudeness of any not-so-nice ones. Gaston in particular brought up this last thought.

Aurora had gone on a date with him when she was a freshman and he was a sophomore. It had been at the beginning of the year when she didn't know many people and didn't know who was good news and who was bad. Gaston had approached her to ask her on a date and he had seemed nice enough. A bit overly flirtatious, but Aurora was too flattered to care. An older student had asked her out at the beginning of her freshman year, and she didn't know better to be anything other than excited. She told him her address and he told her he would pick her up at her house at five o'clock the following Friday. Even though she barely knew him—the invitation occurred during her first short conversation with him—she was excited. It didn't really matter if the relationship went anywhere. It was a status thing at this point.

Aurora was ready by four forty-five on Friday, dressed in a summery light blue dress. She waited in the living room of her house for Gaston, keeping an eye on the clock. She tried to read for a while, but she was so nervous she couldn't concentrate. Five o'clock came and passed. Then five thirty. It was nearly six when she heard a call pull up the driveway. She waited a couple of minutes for Gaston to come to the door. She heard a honk of the horn and realized he wasn't coming in—he expected her to come out.

Feeling slightly frazzled, Aurora checked herself quickly in a mirror and headed out to the car. Gaston had the window of the car rolled down and he flashed Aurora a cheesy smile. She forced a smile in return.

"I thought you said five o'clock," Aurora said somewhat sheepishly—actually, she _knew _he said five o'clock. It wasn't a detail she would easily forget.

"I did," Gaston said, seeming completely unconcerned.

"It's nearly six!" Aurora said.

"Fashionably late," Gaston said casually. "Hop in."

Aurora was somewhat taken aback, but she came around the passenger side of the car and got in anyway. Gaston backed out of the driveway quickly and peeled out into the road. He maintained a speed of at least fifteen to twenty miles above the limit at all times and rolled through stop signs carelessly, but Aurora kept her mouth shut. She wondered where they were going but thought it might be uncool to ask.

When they pulled up to a McDonalds, Aurora had to suppress a groan. Surely he couldn't be serious. Aurora was of the opinion that there were few things in this world that couldn't somehow be made romantic. Fast food restaurants were unfortunately one of those few things. The greasy food completely devoid of nutritional value, the apathetic staff of unhygienic teenagers, the wiped-down booths, the _flies_. Gaston parked the car and she hoped to god he just had some bizarre sense of humor or had to use the bathroom or _something_. Anything that would mean their date wasn't going to be at a McDonalds, of all places. Gaston got out of the car, then looked back at Aurora expectantly. She slowly got out of the car and followed Gaston in the building and up to the counter.

Gaston looked a bit annoyed at something then said, "Pick something off the Dollar Menu."

Ah. Cheap. At least that meant he realized that it was polite for him to pay. That had to count for something, right? At this point, actually, it didn't count for much. Anyway, Aurora thought, politeness probably didn't have much to do with it.

"Um, it's okay, I'll just pay for my own," Aurora said, and Gaston didn't protest.

He ordered himself some deluxe burger that definitely cost more than a dollar, but Aurora didn't care at this point. She looked over the menu. Nothing here was really appealing. In fact, that pictures made her want to gag a little bit. She finally settled on just getting a small M&M McFlurry and headed over to the booth where Gaston was already seated, having eaten almost half his burger already. The way he was ripping the thing apart was just disgusting. There was sauce dripping down his fingers and the back of his hands and vegetables falling onto the wrapper on the table. Aurora checked the seat before sliding into it across from Gaston. She didn't dare to so much as touch the table, so instead sat with her arms close to her body and ate her McFlurry without putting it down on the table.

Gaston didn't bother to make any conversation, though Aurora doubted the conversation would be very interesting anyway. She was completely repulsed by him and completely regretted taking him up on his offer for a date. How could she have known, though? In retrospect, she supposed it should be suspicious that a guy would approach a freshman who he knew nothing about to ask her on a date—unless _no one _else would date him. Later, though, she would find out that there were plenty of girls who wanted to date him, though not for the right reasons. Apparently there were some girls trashy enough to find him attractive. To each her own. But, as it turned out, Gaston wasn't interested in any of those trashy girls—the ones on his level. Instead, he always went after the kind of nice girl who would never be interested in him. Luckily for every other girl in the school, soon after his date with Aurora, Gaston met Belle, and fixated solely on her from that point on. Of course, it wasn't so lucky for Belle, but she was witty enough to keep him at bay with her clever words and she seemed like a strong girl. Aurora wound up admiring Belle quite a bit when she saw all the unwanted attention the girl received from Gaston. Aurora knew she wouldn't be able to handle it.

Aurora only finished half her McFlurry, losing her appetite after basically watching Gaston digest his hamburger, as he apparently never learned to close his mouth while he ate. She wrinkled her nose up in disgust, but he didn't seem to notice. It was like she wasn't even there. It was just Gaston and the hamburger. When he finally finished, he crumbled up his wrapper into a ball and tossed it at the trash can. He missed, but didn't bother to pick it up. Aurora couldn't help but let a small noise of disgust escape her. Gaston didn't seem to notice anyway.

Without saying anything, Gaston headed toward the door. Aurora followed him, hoping this meant the date was almost over. They got in the car and drove off. Aurora wondered briefly if closing her eyes would help, then decided that if she was going to die she'd want to know ahead of time. Plus, there was always the small hope that if a collision was about to happen she could somehow warn Gaston in time. He seemed oblivious to driving laws. Aurora admittedly didn't know too much about driving, not having even started Driver's Ed yet, but she figured she probably knew considerably more than Gaston did. She wondered how he had passed the test at the DMV, then realized maybe he hadn't—maybe he didn't even _have _a license. How old was he, anyway? She decided she didn't even want to know.

Gaston pulled the car over in an area near Aurora's neighborhood where there were no street lights. She rolled her eyes.

"Shall I walk the rest of the way then?" Aurora asked, not attempting to hide her sarcasm—she didn't care what this guy thought of her anymore. He was clearly a slob and a creep. She reached for the door handle but Gaston hit the button on his side to lock all the doors.

"Not yet," he said. "I thought we could—talk for a while."

It was immediately evident that Gaston did _not _have any interest in "talking." He leaned over across to Aurora's seat, lips pursed. She was lucky enough to dodge the kiss, turning her head and fumbling with the lock until she practically fell out the door. Gaston shouted and tried to grab her wrist, but she was able to pull away. She took off her rather uncomfortable shoes and walked briskly in the direction of her house. Gaston drove alongside her on the road for about half a minute, then apparently gave up, turning his car around. A couple of minutes later, a car pulled up along Aurora and for a moment she thought it was Gaston, back for round two. But when she looked up she didn't recognize the car, and when the window rolled down she saw that it was a kind-looking girl with pale skin and a black bob.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "Do you need a ride?"

"Um, I'm okay, just had a… bad night," Aurora said.

"First date?" the girl asked.

"How did you know?" Aurora looked up, surprised.

"Hop in," the girl said.

She introduced herself as Snow White and told Aurora all about Gaston and his track record with girls. She happened to live on the same street on Aurora, and drove her right up to her front door. Aurora thanked Snow for the ride. The pair's friendship was almost immediate. Aurora soon introduced Snow to her longtime best friend, Ella, and the three were practically inseparable from then on out.

Snow was the one who set Aurora up on dates with Naveen, Phoebus, and Shang. She finally gave up, deciding her matchmaking skills were obviously not meant for Aurora. All the guys had been nice enough—certainly leagues above Gaston—but just not quite _right_. Naveen meant well, but he was a little bit self-absorbed. Phoebus was more of the kind of guy Aurora would want to hang out with and joke around with as a friend. He was a genuinely nice guy with a good sense of humor, but he just felt more like a brother than someone Aurora could have romantic feelings for. And Shang was just a little too serious for Aurora's taste. She wondered often if she was being too picky, but she couldn't help it.

But all that was in the past now. Now she wouldn't have to worry about guys or dating anymore. She would enjoy her last two years of high school with her friends and she wouldn't waste any time wondering if this guy or that guy would be a good boyfriend. It didn't matter anymore, and if it did matter… Well then, it would happen on its own. She told herself this over and over again.

After school, Aurora went out to the parking lot to meet up with Snow, who had agreed at lunchtime to give her a ride home. She spotted Snow talking to a tall, slim boy with light brown hair by her car. Aurora didn't recognize the boy, but he had to be an upperclassman. She slowly approached the pair, not wanting to intrude on their conversation uninvited.

"Aurora!" Snow said with a smile. "We were just talking about you."

"Good things, I hope," Aurora said, although she of course knew that Snow would never say a bad word about anyone, never mind her.

"Of course," Snow said. "This is Phillip, he's new to WDHS this year. Phillip, this is Aurora."

"Hi," Aurora said somewhat shyly.

"Nice to meet you Aurora," Phillip said.

"Um… Snow, can I talk to you for a minute?" Aurora asked.

"It's alright, I was just going anyway," Phillip smiled, then looked at Aurora pointedly. "Hope to see you around."

He walked off with a wave and Aurora gave Snow a look.

"What?"

"Stop trying to set me up, I _told _you…"

"I'm not trying to set you two up," Snow said innocently, getting in the driver's seat of her car. "You know I gave up on that ages ago. Phillip's just a nice guy, and he's new—I think you guys could be friends. I thought it would be good to introduce him to some people. It's hard going to a new school your senior year."

"I guess," Aurora said warily.

"Well, what if there was an attraction there?" Snow asked. "Would you just ignore it?"

"Yes," Aurora said without hesitation.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"You should at least give the poor boy a chance," Snow said. "If he's interested, that is."

"I'm done with dating, I told you," Aurora said. "Anyway, I just met the guy—I have no idea if we even have anything in common. We might not even get along."

"Oh, I think you will," Snow said.

"And you know everything, huh?" Aurora looked over at Snow, who just smiled.


	12. Ella, September 21

**XII.** Ella, September 21

* * *

Tuesday mornings were never good. Not as bad as Monday mornings, of course—everyone knows Monday mornings are the worst of all, especially when you're in high school, but Tuesday mornings were _almost _as bad. Cinderella—usually just Ella, as that was what she preferred—awoke early for a few minutes of peace. She sat up in bed and untangled her hair.

Her two step-sisters, she knew, would be up soon enough barking orders at her and commanding her to do things that they could certainly handle on their own. But the two of them needed their so-called "beauty rest," so they always slept for as long as they possibly could, which was probably why they needed Ella to do things for them in order to leave on time. Though she would never say it, Ella thought the two of them had a couple of the most repulsive personalities of anyone she had ever met, and that was saying nothing about the way they looked. Let's just say the ugliness in their hearts was reflected in their faces. Ella was happy with the knowledge that she was not actually genetically linked with either of them.

The two of them, however, were nothing in comparison to their mother, Lady Tremaine. The worst part about Mrs. Tremaine was probably the fact that Ella could never escape her, even at school, since she was the literature teacher at Walt Disney High School. Mrs. Tremaine had a different kind of meanness to her than her two daughters did. While Anastasia and Drizella were catty and lazy and liked to bully and boss people around, their mother was more subtle and quiet in her treachery. She would act like she had Ella's best interests in mind, even though it was perfectly clear that she didn't. That wasn't just Ella being a typical teenager, thinking that her parent _must _be trying to ruin her life. Mrs. Tremaine genuinely did not like Ella and found some sick pleasure in making her life miserable.

But Ella wasn't miserable. Even though her father had passed away some years ago and she had her step-family to contend with, she was optimistic. She knew that things would be better in the future, because they had to be. Though she knew there were people in the world in far worse situations than hers, she couldn't imagine her own life possibly getting any worse. In the meantime, she had her dreams. She liked to imagine moving away somewhere exciting and living a successful, happy life with a wonderful family. She couldn't think of any better revenge than being happy, because she knew the reason why her step-family was so awful to her was because _they _were miserable and they wanted her to be that way too.

As she picked out her outfit for the day, she thought about Charm and found herself smiling. It was silly, but Ella had liked Charming Charmeuse for as long as she could remember. They had met all the way back in elementary school, though they had never really been _friends_ per se. They had spoken a few times throughout the years, always casually, but he had always been so sweet. Maybe that was just his personality, but Ella was a dreamer and she couldn't help herself. More than anything right now she wished she had the guts to just go up to Charm and talk to him—maybe ask him to hang out. He wasn't outside her circle of friends—in fact, _Aurora_ was friends with him—so it wouldn't be an absurd thing to do.

The problem was, Ella had no experience in this area. Even as a junior in high school, she had never had a boyfriend before, never even gone on a date. She knew this wasn't completely uncommon, but she felt a bit embarrassed about the fact since her two best friends were on the opposite end of the spectrum. Aurora had dated so many guys, and Snow and Prince had been together for what seemed like forever. The other problem was that Ella had never told anyone about her feelings for Charm—not a single soul. She hadn't even told Aurora, and she told Aurora practically everything. Obviously if Aurora had known about Ella's feelings for Charm, she never would have gone on a date with him. Ella felt selfish for being secretly glad that the two were incompatible. Of course she wanted Aurora to be happy, but she hoped that would be with _anyone _other than Charm.

_I have to do something, _Ella thought.

Charm was a senior this year, so if Ella was going to do anything about it, this was her last chance. If she didn't at least befriend Charm, she would probably never see him again. And she knew if she didn't at least try she would always regret it. The first step, she decided, would be to tell someone—someone with more experience. Aurora or Snow? Though she had known Aurora longer, Ella considered both of them to be her best friends. Aurora knew more about approaching guys and dating, but clearly Snow was the expert on long-term relationships, and also quite a matchmaker.

_I can't tell only one of them, _Ella shook her head at herself in the mirror. _I'll just have to tell them both._

"Cinderella!" Drizella's shriek came from somewhere down the hall.

Ella sighed, glad she had gotten a head start on getting ready, since she was going to be pretty busy for the rest of the morning. She headed to her older step-sister's room.

"Yes, Drizella?" she said, standing in the doorway.

"Bring me breakfast," she commanded.

"What would you like?" Ella asked, not wanting to have to make breakfast twice.

"Bacon—no, sausage… Um, bacon _and _sausage… _And _pancakes… Chocolate-chip pancakes, with whipped cream," Drizella said.

"Bacon, sausage, and pancakes?" Ella raised her eyebrows. "Anything… else?"

"Hot coffee," Drizella said, then waved Ella away.

Ella stopped by Anastasia's room, knowing she would be wanting breakfast too and figuring she would save herself a trip. She knocked lightly on the door.

"Go away!" Anastasia shouted shrilly.

"I'm making breakfast," Ella said through the door anyway. "Bacon, sausage, and chocolate-chip pancakes. Would you like some?"

"Yes," Anastasia said. "Hash browns too, now _leave me alone_!"

Ella shrugged and headed down to the kitchen. This wasn't unusual. She was used to having to juggle complicated breakfast orders from her step-sisters, so she could handle bacon _and _sausage _and _pancakes _and _hash browns. She just hoped she'd be able to wash the bacon and sausage smell off before she went to school. If not, she could hopefully mask it with some perfume.

* * *

As usual, Ella met up with her best friends in the usual ladies' room. While Anastasia and Drizella rode to school with Mrs. Tremaine, there was some kind of unspoken agreement that Ella would always ride the bus—so she would have to leave the house earlier, and would always wind up getting to school later. The whole way to school she was trying to mentally prepare herself for the conversation. It was _normal_, she told herself. She knew this. Girls always told their friends about who they liked. Ella listened to Aurora gush about this guy and that guy since before even middle school, and she had even had girls she wasn't _that _close friends with tell her which guys they were crushing on.

"It's completely normal," she whispered to herself as she pushed the door to the ladies' room open.

"What's normal?" Aurora asked, without looking up from the mirror.

"Uh—did I say that out loud? Nothing," Ella shook her head. "I have to talk to you guys about something."

"Yeah, what's up?" Aurora said, still focused on applying her eyeliner with precision.

"Can you, like… pay attention?" Ella asked. "It's kind of serious."

Aurora and Snow both looked to her now with their full attention.

"Is everything okay?" Snow asked.

"Yeah, are you alright?" Aurora asked. "It's not Drizella or Anastasia, is it? 'Cause I'll—"

"No, it's not them," Ella interrupted. "And everything is fine. I just… want to tell you guys something that I've never told anyone before and I'm kind of nervous about it."

"Aw, El, you know, if you're a lesbian, that's totally fine with—"

"No, Aurora, I'm _not _a lesbian," Ella said somewhat testily. "Can you please stop interrupting me so that I don't lose my nerve?"

"I'm sorry, I just—you never talk about guys, so I thought maybe…" Aurora trailed off, seeing that Snow was giving her a cautionary look. "Right."

"Well, it's… sort of about that," Ella said, glad to have something to ease her into the conversation. "I never talk about guys because there's sort of only one guy… One guy who I've sort of liked for a _really _long time, and I never wanted to say anything because it seemed kind of ridiculous to like a guy I barely know for so long, so… I guess I should just say it. It's Charm."

Aurora gasped a little bit.

"_Charm_?" she asked. "Charming Charmeuse? As in the guy I just went on a date with?"

Ella nodded, blushing a little bit.

"Oh, Ella, I _never_ would have gone on a date with him if I had known—if I'd had any kind of clue!"

"I know you wouldn't have," Ella said. "I wasn't mad. I knew it was my own fault. And it's silly anyway, I mean, I don't even really know him."

"Well, _I _know him, and I think the two of you would make a great pair, personally," Aurora said.

"Completely," Snow agreed, looking a little bit dreamy as though she were imagining the two as a couple. "Oh, we _need _to make this happen."

"Agreed," Aurora nodded enthusiastically.

"So you'll help me?" Ella's face lit up.

"Of course we'll help you," Snow said, smiling. "We're your best friends—we're here for you. And you deserve it."

"Oh, thank you so much," Ella said, hugging both of her friends individually. "I was afraid you'd think I was silly."

"I do think you're silly," Aurora said. "I think it was very silly of you not to tell me about this before! How long has it been?"

Ella shrugged, "Forever, I guess."

"This _needs_ to happen," Snow said. "Give me a couple days, I'll come up with something."

"You're the expert," Ella smiled, and the bell rang. "I'll see you guys at lunch!"

The three went in their separate directions. Ella couldn't stop smiling. She might have stopped, however, if she had waited for a minute. Then she might have seen Anastasia stepping out of the same bathroom she had just left.

* * *

Ella sat in her eighth block pre-calculus classroom, waiting for the teacher, Mrs. Hearts, to arrive. This was the last class of the day, and then she could go to Aurora's house with Snow so they could talk some more about what they'd discussed in the bathroom this morning and whispered about at lunch. Of course, at lunch they had only referred to Charm with codenames just in case anyone overheard. Ella found herself mindlessly doodling hearts and ribbons and squiggles in the corner of her notebook while she waited.

"What're you writing—Mrs. Cinderella Charmeuse?"

Ella felt her face go white. She turned to see an unfamiliar face—she'd never even spoken to this girl in her life before, and couldn't even remember ever seeing her. The tone she used as she said it was snide and mocking, and when Ella looked at her, the girl laughed.

"What did you—why did you say that?" Ella asked, her voice small.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" the girl said, then walked away, laughing.

"Where did you—?" Ella began, but the girl wasn't paying attention.

She felt herself beginning to panic. If this girl, whose name she didn't even know, knew about Ella's feelings for Charm, then who else knew? And how had they found out? She felt a pang of betrayal for a moment, thinking that Aurora or Snow must have told someone. But that was not in Snow's nature at all, and Aurora… Ella trusted Aurora with anything, and she knew Aurora would never do anything to hurt her.

"Ella!" Aurora ran into the classroom and took the desk next to Ella, where she usually sat. "Everyone knows—I don't know what happened."

Aurora looked genuinely distressed, and she had clearly run to class based on her wild hair and heavy breathing. She was looking to Ella for a reaction, and for a moment Ella could do nothing but sit there with her mouth hanging open.

"How… How is this even possible?" she was on the verge of tears.

"I don't know—I don't—oh, please don't cry, we'll fix this," Aurora said, trying to sound reassuring.

"I'm not… I'm not crying," Ella said, taking a deep breath and composing herself. "Does… does he know?"

"I don't know," Aurora said, shaking her head. "I don't understand how this could happen… I can't figure out who it's all coming from… Everyone seems to have heard from someone different. And you didn't tell anyone but us?"

"No, I only told you… and Snow," Ella said.

"Oh El, you don't think—"

"No, no, of course not," Ella said. "Snow wouldn't do that to anyone, especially not me."

"Of course," Aurora nodded in agreement. "Well—try not to think about it. We'll figure it out tonight. And in the meantime, I'm sure most people will just think it's a rumor. Don't let it get to you. Everything will be okay."

Ella nodded, trying to believe it. Yes. It was true. Everything _would _be okay. In the grand scheme of things, a little high school gossip was not the end of the world. Even if it did get back to Charm, so what? Either he would think it was a rumor and not care, or he would know that Ella liked him. And if he didn't like her or thought it was ridiculous, well then… Oh well. That would be that. It would be fine. It was not a big deal. Really.

Except right now, nothing seemed more important. Ella had never felt more humiliated, and that was saying something, since she went through a variety of different humiliating acts every day at home. When Mrs. Hearts came in and started shrieking at the students, Ella tried to concentrate on what she was saying. Tried to focus on functions and domains and x-and-y-intercepts and whatever. But pretty soon it was just blah-blah-blah and Ella was more focused on scribbling out the hearts she had doodled before.

She looked up at Aurora and saw Aurora looking worriedly at the scribbles in her notebook, then giving her a sympathetic look. A piteous look. Ella couldn't take it anymore. She stood up, snatched the bathroom pass off the board and exited the room before Mrs. Hearts could even react and start shouting at her to sit back down and pay attention. She hurried to the bathroom and locked herself in the handicapped stall before she started sobbing. Luckily the stall had a practically unlimited supply of toilet paper. There was a light knock on the door.

"Are you okay?"

Ella didn't recognize the voice.

"Yeah, I'm—I'm fine," Ella said, sniffling.

"You don't sound fine," the girl said softly.

"Okay, I'm not fine," Ella said. "What difference is it to you?"

It was a bit more confrontational than she usually was but she was hurt and she couldn't help it. She didn't feel like she was in control of anything right now, and that included her words.

"I just want to help," the girl said. "Are you sure you don't want to talk?"

"I guess… I could use someone to talk to," Ella said, convinced by the kindness in the girl's voice.

She opened the door and let the girl into the stall. The girl had long blonde hair that reached down her back—it was the longest Ella could ever remember seeing.

"Oh," the girl said when she saw Ella.

"Oh?" Ella asked, honestly a little put off by the greeting.

"I'm sorry—you're Ella, aren't you?" she asked. "Ella Miroir?"

"Yeah, I am," Ella said. "I'm guessing you heard, too?"

"Sorry," the girl said. "That really sucks. I'm Rapunzel."

"Nice to meet you," Ella said, though she realized she wasn't sounding too sincere. "I just… I don't know how this happened. Only two people in the world knew about it, and neither of them would have told anyone. It just… doesn't make sense."

"I think I know what happened," Rapunzel said.

"You do?"

Rapunzel nodded, "A girl in one of my classes—algebra—she was telling everyone. She said she overheard you talking about it in the bathrooms this morning—she was in one of the stalls and you didn't know or something. Personally I thought it was a horrible thing to do, telling all those people… Literally, she was telling anyone who would listen, and no one really likes her, either. But I guess no one can resist a good rumor."

"What's her name?" Ella asked, her sadness turning into bitterness and anger, feelings that were somewhat foreign to her even with her many years at the mercy of her step-family.

"Anastasia Tremaine," Rapunzel said. "I think she might be related to the English teacher, you know the one who—what?"

Ella could feel her whole body heating up with anger, and knew it must be showing on her face. This was a completely new feeling.

"She's my step-sister," she said through gritted teeth. "I should have known—I should have—"

"Well, how could you have?" Rapunzel said.

"I don't know, I just—if I could think of any person who would do something like this to another person, it would be one of my step-sisters," Ella said, wiping away the last of her tears with a piece of toilet paper. "Thank you, Rapunzel. You've been a big help."

"You're welcome," Rapunzel said. "But wait—don't let this stop you."

"Stop me?" Ella said.

"With Charm," Rapunzel said. "I don't know either of you, but… I say go for it. If that's your dream, don't let this stop you. And if it doesn't work out… you can find another dream. Things may seem bad now, but they'll get better. I promise."

Ella smiled because that was what she was always telling herself. It will get better. It will. It has to. The girl seemed surprised when Ella gave her a quick hug before leaving the bathroom and heading back to class. Mrs. Hearts glared at Ella when she came back in the room, but didn't let it interrupt her lesson. Aurora looked at Ella curiously but didn't say anything. Ella ripped out a piece of paper quietly and wrote a note to Aurora on it:

_It was Anastasia._

Aurora unfolded the note, read the three words, then looked over at Ella, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ella nodded her head slowly.

_Are you sure? How did she find out? …How did you find out?_

Ella made a gesture at the clock indicating that she would tell Aurora everything once class was over. When class finally ended, Aurora was full of questions. Ella began to tell Aurora about her encounter with Rapunzel in the bathroom. They were headed toward the parking lot to meet up with Snow. Ella was midway through her story when she saw Charm walking down the hallway in the opposite direction, and she felt her face pale and it was as though the words had literally fallen out of her mouth. And then she realized that he wasn't just walking down the hallway, he was walking _right toward her_. She stopped walking because she _couldn't _walk anymore. She felt like she was suddenly frozen into place.

"Hi," he said, approaching the two girls and standing right in front of them; he turned to Aurora. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Um… sure," Aurora said, looking at Ella nervously. "I'll meet you in the parking lot?"

Ella nodded, unable to speak, and Aurora skipped off.

"Can I talk to you?" Charm asked.

"Ah… uh-huh," Ella said quietly, nodding—those sounds were the closest she could make to actual _words _right now.

Charm basically steered Ella into a hallway that was less crowded than the one they were in, not filled with the steady stream of students trying to escape to the parking lot.

"So I guess you know what this is about," Charm said.

"Mm… mm-hmm," Ella said, not even sure what she _would _say if she _could _say something.

"Well, I just wanted to say… I don't know you that well," he began. "But… I think you're really sweet. I know we haven't talked much, but you've always been really nice and… I think you're kind of cute. Really… cute."

Ella had a feeling her mouth was hanging open a little bit, but she couldn't really control that, either. Was he actually saying these things or had she just completely disappeared into her own imagination? This could _not _be real.

"So I want to get to know you better," Charm said. "Would you like to be my date for Homecoming?"

"What?" Ella finally felt the word tumble out of her mouth. "I mean—_yes_! Of _course_!"

She couldn't even control her enthusiasm, and wasn't even thinking—until later—about how uncool this outburst probably seemed. It didn't matter just then. Just then, the impossible had happened and she could hardly believe it.

"Great," Charm smiled. "I look forward to it. I know you've got to go catch up with Aurora so… I'll just get your number from her, and we can plan things from there. Sound good?"

"Yes—yes!" Ella said, practically bouncing up and down as she left to catch up with Aurora and tell her the fantastic, impossible news.

"What could _you _possibly be smiling about?" Ella heard as she was about to walk out the front doors.

She turned to see her older sister, Drizella. Surely Drizella had heard about what Anastasia had done. Anastasia probably bragged to Drizella about how perfectly she had ruined Ella's life this time. Ella sometimes thought that maybe they kept scorecards and competed on who could be the most awful. But seeing Drizella now only made Ella smile wider.

"What?" Drizella snapped—clearly Ella's happiness made her uncomfortable.

"You're looking at Charming Charmeuse's date for Homecoming!" Ella smiled, did a little curtsey, then skipped out the door.

She heard Drizella shouting after her, calling her a liar and saying she was just making it up. Well, she would just have to wait and see for herself then, wouldn't she?


	13. Rapunzel, September 21 to 22

**XIII.** Rapunzel, September 21 to 22

* * *

Rapunzel sat in the waiting area of the hairdresser's Tuesday afternoon along with her friends Mulan and Peter. She could hardly believe what she was about to do, and she was a little worried that she might chicken out before the hairdresser was ready for her. But it _was _something she had been thinking about doing for a while, and she had made this appointment specifically for that reason. It wasn't anything life-changing, but it was a bit drastic—Rapunzel was going to cut her long, golden hair and dye it brown. She was excited and nervous at the same time—she had had long hair for as long as she could remember.

It was Mulan's appearance in school Thursday morning that made Rapunzel finally book this appointment. Apparently Wednesday night Mulan had angrily chopped her long hair down to shoulder length after an argument with her parents, and it suited her rather well. Mulan decided to book an appointment at the same time just to even out the cut she had given herself. It didn't look bad, but she was certainly no professional. Peter had decided to tag along, having nothing better to do that afternoon since Tiger's parents didn't want her going out on a school night.

"I don't think I can do this," Rapunzel said, hearing her voice squeak nervously.

"You'll be fine," Mulan laughed reassuringly, touching Rapunzel's hand lightly. "It will look great, I promise."

"I believe you but… it's such a big change…" Rapunzel's big green eyes wandered over to Peter. "Peter, what on earth are you doing?"

Peter had begun arranging boxes of hair product that were for sale into a pyramid.

"Bored."

"You knew we were coming here to get our hair done—what did you expect?" Rapunzel asked.

Peter shrugged.

"How's Tiger Lily been?" Mulan said.

"Good," Peter said, smiling. "Very good. Wendy… seems a little bit upset though."

Rapunzel and Mulan didn't really know Wendy, only knew of her, mostly from Peter's stories. They knew Peter and Wendy had been best friends for a long time, but the two sort of had separate circles of friends.

"What's she upset about?" Mulan asked.

"I don't know, I guess she's mad that I didn't tell her _right away _about me and Tiger Lily," Peter rolled his eyes. "I mean, it wasn't like I was keeping it a secret, it just never came up in conversation and I didn't think it was that important."

"Girls are weird like that," Mulan said, smiling.

"Not you guys, though," Peter said. "You guys are cool about stuff like that."

Rapunzel couldn't think of any guy who she was as close with as Wendy was with Peter, so she just shrugged. She wasn't sure how she'd react. She thought it could be that Wendy had feelings for Peter in a more friendly way than he imagined, but she didn't say so. Anyway, she didn't know Wendy, and she had no reason to believe that was true. It would only make matters worse to introduce the idea, whether it was a possibility or not.

"Rapunzel Corona?" a petite red-headed hairdresser read the name off of a clipboard.

"That's me," she said, standing nervously, then turned and forced a smile at Mulan and Peter, who both gave her thumbs-ups.

* * *

An hour later, Rapunzel was walking out of the salon feeling practically bald. The cut was short—even shorter than Mulan's. But it was cute, layered, and a warm brown. She looked like a completely different person, and she was surprised by how happy she was with it. Having so much less hair was a strange sensation. Her didn't feel light-headed, and yet her head somehow felt _lighter_. She found herself reaching up to comb her fingers through her hair occasionally, to find that there was no longer anything there, and she was startled by her own reflection in windows and mirrors.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Mulan asked, laughing as she watched Rapunzel swishing her hair around.

"Feels alright to me," Peter said.

"Oh, shut up, you've always had short hair," Rapunzel said, giving him a playful punch in the arm.

"Did you tell anyone else at school that you were doing this?" Mulan asked.

Rapunzel shook her head. She hadn't even told her parents.

"It's going to be so awesome when everyone sees your new look tomorrow," Mulan said. "You'll have to make sure your teachers don't mark you absent."

"You think they won't recognize me?"

"You'd be surprised what a haircut can do," Mulan smiled.

* * *

Mulan was right—Rapunzel _was _surprised. When she walked into school the next day, she turned quite a few heads. Usually it was people doing double-takes, not sure if their eyes had deceived them the first time around. She heard her name in whispers—"wait, is that _Rapunzel_?"—and she wasn't sure at first whether the haircut was well-received or not. But soon enough people got over the initial shock and the compliments started coming. Rapunzel couldn't stop beaming. She was a little embarrassed to be the center of attention, but people were being so nice that she couldn't help but smile. People who she couldn't remember ever meeting were even complimenting her in the hallway. I guess that's what you get for making such a drastic change. A lot of these people had known her since elementary school, and her hair had always been _exactly _the same style.

Rapunzel was practically beaming by the time sixth block ended. She clutched her books to her chest, smiling as she headed towards the math hallway for the second-to-last class of the day, Algebra with Mrs. Hearts. She was lost in thought about how genuinely nice people were being, and how days like this restored her faith in humanity after days like yesterday, when that horrible Anastasia girl had maliciously spread another girl's most closely-kept secret. She was so lost in thought, in fact, that she turned a corner and basically ran into a guy walking in the opposite direction. Granted, he was walking on the _left _side of the hallway when people generally kept to the right—except for freshmen who didn't know any better. But this guy didn't look like a freshman at all. In fact, he looked very cool. Too cool. Suspiciously cool.

"Sorry!" Rapunzel said as she gathered the things she had dropped.

"No, no, I'm sorry," he said, then stopped when she looked up at him. "Oh."

"Oh?" Rapunzel said.

"Nothing—I, um, hello," he said.

"Hello…?" Rapunzel responded confusedly, standing back up with books in hand.

"How are you doing?" he said, clearly trying to be suave. "I'm Flynn—Flynn Rider."

"Nice to meet you," Rapunzel said, rolling her eyes—this trick may work for other girls, but not for her.

This guy was super cheesy. He reminded Rapunzel a bit of that Naveen guy—in fact, she thought she had seen them hanging around a bit. But there was _something _different. Something about Flynn's whole demeanor came across as false to Rapunzel.

"So… what's your name?" Flynn asked. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Rapunzel," she said, wanting to politely step away and get along to her class, but not knowing quite how to go about it.

"Ra-what-zel?" Flynn looked somewhat baffled by her name.

"Ra_pun_zel," she responded—seriously, it may not have been a very common name, but it wasn't _that _difficult.

"Got a nickname?" Flynn said. "How about Punzy? Can I call you Punzy?"

"No," Rapunzel said, beginning to get irritated. "You can call me Rapunzel. That's my name. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Hey, we should hang out sometime!" Flynn said as she began to walk away.

"I don't think so," Rapunzel said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Your loss!" he shouted after her.

That just made her even more glad that she had said no. It was a shame—he was pretty cute, but that attitude just did nothing for Rapunzel. She didn't mind when a guy was confident and sure of himself. Confidence was a good thing. But this guy was just taking it too far. Like he was overcompensating. She felt like there was a story there, but she didn't want to get involved. She lived a pretty drama-free lifestyle, and she wanted to keep it that way. Where there's a story, there's drama.

* * *

"I'm going to meet Tiger's parents tomorrow night," Peter told Rapunzel as they laid out on the grassy hill by the football field.

"Are you nervous?" Rapunzel asked.

"Of course not," Peter said, and Rapunzel looked over at him, surprised. "How can I be nervous? I'm too busy being terrified."

Rapunzel smiled, "I'm sure they'll love you. Everyone does."

"And what about you, Punzy?" Peter smiled back at her and flicked her hair. "No one can stop talking about your fancy new hair."

"Punzy?" Rapunzel frowned.

"Yeah, I just made it up," Peter said with a shrug. "I was just being stupid—I won't call you that again."

"No, it's not that, it's—just this dumb guy in the hall today called me that," Rapunzel said.

"What guy?" Peter asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Shut up," Rapunzel punched him in the arm. "Actually, he kind of pissed me off a little bit. He said his name was Flynn."

"Oh, you mean…" Peter hopped up and did a flawless impersonation. "How do you do? I'm Flynn—Flynn Rider."

Rapunzel laughed, "Yeah, that's the one."

"There's something not-right about that guy," Peter said, lying back down in the grass.

"That's what I was thinking," Rapunzel said. "And he called me that—Punzy."

She crinkled her nose as she said the nickname. It really did have a very unpleasant sound about it.

"Rapunzel, I'm freaking out over here… just so you know," Peter said.

"Peter Pan—nervous," Rapunzel laughed. "I've never seen you nervous about anything. I mean, did you even pick up a book during finals last year?"

"This is different!" Peter said, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically. "This is important!"

"Some people think finals are important," Rapunzel smiled, amused at seeing Peter getting so anxious—that was one thing she'd never known him to be. "You'll be fine, Peter. Really."

A girl with big, brown ringlets pulled back into a ponytail skipped over and sat down in front of Peter and Rapunzel.

"Hello Peter!" she said with a smile.

"Hi Wendy," he said without uncovering his eyes.

"Ah, the famous Wendy," Rapunzel said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope," Wendy said, and Rapunzel nodded. "What are you two up to?"

"Waiting for Mulan to get out of practice," Peter said.

"Peter's having a panic attack," Rapunzel laughed.

"It's not funny!" he wailed, rolling over onto his stomach.

"Peter Pan panicking?" Wendy smiled. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Me neither," Rapunzel said, and the girls giggled. "He's meeting Tiger Lily's parents tomorrow so he can take her to Homecoming. I've tried to distract him, but he just goes back to this."

There was a flash of _something _in Wendy's eyes when Tiger Lily's name was mentioned, but she masked it too quickly to be sure of just what it was. Rapunzel sensed there was some jealousy there, but again, she didn't want to make assumptions. Either way, Wendy clearly did not want to talk about it, as she quickly changed the subject.

"Well, I've just finished up a tutoring session with Phillip Rêveur—do either of you know him?" Wendy said.

"Tutoring?" Peter sat up. "What could you _possibly _need tutoring in?"

_Then again, _Rapunzel thought. _Perhaps she's just trying to distract Peter so that he stops freaking out._

She made a mental note to stop making assumptions about people. After all, Wendy knew Peter better than anyone, so of course she would know just the topic to distract him. In this case, the fact that Wendy was being tutored, as Peter clearly was under the impression that she knew absolutely everything.

"French, actually," Wendy said.

"Wait—aren't you taking Spanish, Peter mentioned you two had it together I thought?" Rapunzel said.

"We do," Wendy said. "Spanish 2, but I wanted to take another language so now I'm in French 1. _That's _why I need tutoring—it's hard, you know, with them both being romance languages. Gets a little confusing. Since I have the basics of Spanish down, I figured I'd get tutoring in French so that I can get a good grip on both of them."

"So you don't really _need _the tutoring, you just can't stand not being perfect?" Peter summed up as he picked apart a piece of grass.

"That's not what I said!" Wendy said with a smile, ripping up a clump of grass and throwing it at Peter's head.

"That's what it sounded like!" Peter shouted, throwing some grass back at her.

The distraction worked, and the two were soon giggling and tossing clumps of grass at each other. Rapunzel smiled and reached into the front pocket of her backpack for her phone. She looked at the screen and saw that she had three missed calls and a text message from her dad.

"Oh crap," she whispered, realizing she had left the phone on silent even after school ended.

She opened up her messages to read the text.

_Please come home as soon as possible. It's important._

Well, that was rather ominous-sounding. But Rapunzel knew better than to worry—after teaching both of her parents how to text message, she had received plenty of texts that seemed much more foreboding than they actually were, such as the frequent "Call me" text message. She had tried to teach them how to use exclamation points and smiley faces to express that it was nothing serious, but neither parent seemed to understand that just typing the words didn't convey the emotions that saying them would.

"Hey guys, I have to go," Rapunzel said, interrupting their little giggle-fest as she stood. "My dad wants me home. Wendy—it was great to meet you. Peter—say bye to Mulan for me. See you tomorrow!"

She headed back towards the parking lot, trying to call her dad as she did. No answer. Typical. Her parents would call a bunch of times, leave messages complaining about how she wasn't answering, and then she would call back and get no reply. Double standards much? She shrugged and put her phone in her pocket. Obviously it wasn't that important. Her dad would be upset if she was much later, though, and it was much too far to walk… The original plan had been to hitch a ride with Peter's foster parents when they came to pick him up, since her house was not too far from theirs, but obviously that plan was out the window now.

"Hey there."

Rapunzel turned to the voice and saw Flynn walking towards her from the school building.

"Oh, you again," Rapunzel rolled her eyes in the most exaggerated way she could manage.

"Me again," Flynn smiled. "Pleased?"

"Hardly," Rapunzel scoffed, then hesitated, looking at Flynn. "You're a… senior, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm new this year," Flynn said. "Maybe you could… show me around or something?"

"I'm sure you've got plenty of people to do that for you already with that phony charm of yours," Rapunzel said.

"Phony?" Flynn asked. "What do you mean 'phony'?"

"Never mind," Rapunzel shook her head. "You have a car, right?"

"Well, that's a bit forward, I mean…"

"Do you or don't you?" Rapunzel asked. "I'm kind of in a hurry here."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," Flynn said.

Rapunzel sighed, shaking her head. She'd take that as a yes.

"Listen—if you can give me a ride home right now, perhaps I'll be more open to the idea of… showing you around," Rapunzel said. "Okay?"

"Fair enough," Flynn shrugged. "This way."

Rapunzel followed Flynn to the rickety white pickup truck. She was sure she hadn't seen the truck before, and it sort of stuck out like a sore thumb. She opened the passenger side and looked at the somewhat grimy cloth seats with apprehension. Seeing no other option, she climbed in and tried to forget the stains on the seat. The car creaked as Flynn got into the driver's side.

"Is this thing… safe?" Rapunzel asked nervously.

Flynn shrugged, "I don't know, just got it yesterday. I drove it here this morning and I'm still alive, so…"

Rapunzel didn't think that was very reassuring. Flynn turned the key and the engine started with a loud roar. Flynn shrugged and gave a little nervous smile. Aha! That little smile—_that _was a genuine smile. So there was someone hiding underneath this smooth cool-guy exterior. Rapunzel thought that maybe if she squinted a little bit, she might be able to see underneath the surface.

There wasn't much time for conversation, though—the whole lurching ride was spent with Rapunzel directing Flynn towards her house. He looked impressed when they pulled up in front of Rapunzel's house, a white mansion on top of a hill. He just sort of sat in the driver's seat, staring up at it in awe.

"You live _here_?" Flynn asked.

"Yeah," Rapunzel said, climbing out of the car—she couldn't get out quickly enough. "I have to run—I'm already late coming home—but, um, thanks for the ride. See you around?"

She turned and bounded off towards the house before Flynn could get another word in. She walked up the hill quickly, used to the small hike. She fumbled with her keys and pushed open the front door.

"I'm home!" she shouted as soon as she was inside—there was no reply at first. "Dad?"

"In the dining room," he said in a somewhat monotonous voice.

Rapunzel headed to the dining room, but stopped in the doorway. Her mother and father were sitting next to each other at the table with some papers in front of them. Her mother's hands were covering her face, but from the way her body was shaking Rapunzel could tell she was crying. Her father had his arm around her mother, and from the way his face looked Rapunzel could tell that he had been crying too. That was serious. Rapunzel's father cried very, very rarely, and when he did, it was serious business.

"Mommy?" Rapunzel said, surprised by how small and child-like her voice sounded when the word came out.

"Rapunzel, come sit down next to me," her father said, gesturing toward the chair beside him.

Rapunzel moved towards the chair and sat, unable to take her eyes off of her father's face. She wanted to look down and see what the papers were, but her gaze was fixed on her father and she could not bring herself to look away.

"What happened?" Rapunzel said quietly, her voice cracking.

"Rapunzel," her father said her name again, reaching out and taking her hand. "Your mother has cancer."


	14. Peter, September 23

**XIV.** Peter, September 23

* * *

Peter sat awkwardly on the couch in Tiger Lily's living room. In front of him was a low glass-topped coffee table and on the other side of it was another couch, where Mr. Lily sat straight-backed, with his arms crossed in front of him. His face was red as though he were angry, but Peter wasn't sure if he was actually mad or if that was just how his complexion was. He sure hoped he wasn't mad, since the man was rather large and definitely capable of kicking Peter's ass. His posture sure seemed to indicate anger, but Peter hadn't really done anything yet except, you know, date his daughter. If that was enough to set him off, Peter thought maybe he should just leave and quit while he was ahead.

It was just the two of them in the living room. Mrs. Lily was in the kitchen and Tiger had gone up to her room as soon as the two arrived at the house. After the long school day, she wanted to change into some fresh, comfortable clothes. And of course, it would have looked bad if Peter had followed her up to her room. So here he was, sitting across from Tiger's father, in complete and utter silence.

"So…" Peter said, but luckily he wasn't forced to make conversation as Mrs. Lily, a smiling, round-faced woman, came bustling into the living room with a silver tray.

She put the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to her husband. The tray had a basket filled with cornbread rolls and a kettle of tea, along with some cups. The cornbread smelled delicious.

"Tea, Peter?" Mrs. Lily asked with a smile.

"Sure—I mean, yes, please, Mrs. Lily," he said, and she poured him a cup.

"Help yourself to the rolls as well," Mrs. Lily said.

"Thank you ma'am," Peter said as he took the cup from her.

He felt the mug and found the tea had already cooled a bit, so took a sip. There was some kind of unfamiliar spice in the tea that Peter didn't quite recognize and wasn't quite sure if he liked. He took a second sip—blech. Definitely not. He tried not to show it on his face, though. He put the mug down on a coaster. Tiger came skipping down the stairs that moment. Peter looked up and saw that she had changed into gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt and she'd let her hair down. He found himself staring, completely in awe of how she could be so beautiful when she didn't even mean to be.

_I can't believe she's dating _me_, _he thought.

She smiled and he realized he was staring. He shook his head and she came over and sat next to Peter, taking his hand in an innocent gesture. Mrs. Lily made an expression as though this was the most precious thing she'd ever seen. Mr. Lily's expression didn't change. Peter wasn't even sure he had seen the man _blink _yet, though he must have. Tiger seemed to realize how awkward things were in her absence, and she sent Peter an apologetic glance.

"So… Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend Peter," Tiger said, although obviously introductions had already sort-of been made. "And Peter, this is Dad and Mom."

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Lily grunted.

Well, it was something. He decided to dive right in.

"I, um, came here tonight because I wanted to ask you if it would be okay if I took your daughter to the Homecoming Dance?" Peter said, sounding meeker than he would have liked to.

"Oh, isn't that darling?" Mrs. Lily said, putting a hand to her chest, and looking to her husband. "It's okay with me."

Mr. Lily didn't say anything for a few moments, and Peter was worried. Very worried.

"You may take my daughter to this 'dance' if, and only if…" Mr. Lily looked very serious as he paused for a few seconds—and then, for the first time since Peter had arrived, he smiled "…you come here beforehand and let me take pictures."

Tiger made an adorable little squealing noise and then bounced up and down on the couch clapping her hands. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Mr. Lily was a nice enough guy under the macho tough-guy fatherly exterior. Tiger gave Peter a kiss on the cheek and he blushed, surprised at this sign of affection in front of her parents.

"Thank you, sir," Peter said.

"No, no, none of this 'sir' business," Mr. Lily shook his head and waved a hand through the air. "You may call me Wapasha, my first name."

"Uh…" Peter involuntary let out a sound of slight discomfort.

"Have some bread," Mr. Lily insisted.

"Um, yes, thank you s—uh, Wapasha," Peter said, taking a roll from the basket and taking a bite. "Wow, this is delicious!"

It was certainly a contrast to the tea. Mrs. Lily thanked him. This whole conversation seemed to break the ice, and they chatted about this and that mundane thing. Peter told them he did well in school when they asked—a little white lie, he supposed, but not something they'd ever find out anyway. And they didn't ask specifically in what aspect of school he did well. He did pretty well in lunch. So it wasn't a total lie. For the most part, Peter found the rest of the evening to be rather dull. Small talk of this sort wasn't really his thing. It was always the same questions, never things that he was really interested in talking about, and he was expected to sit still and be ultra-polite. Luckily he had learned a thing or two about behaving himself since his rambunctious childhood, but he was known to still slip up on occasion. He hoped he wouldn't slip up tonight. This was something he actually cared about for once. This was important.

He was reminded of the first time he met the Darlings, Wendy's parents. He and Wendy had known each other for a couple years, during which they had hung out pretty exclusively with each other during recess at school. Wendy finally invited Peter over her house to meet her family. Wendy was seven or eight. Her younger brother John was nearly four, and Mrs. Darling was pregnant with Wendy's youngest brother, Michael. Of course, as they were young children, the visit was more of a play date for Wendy and Peter than a chance for Peter to meet Mr. and Mrs. Darling, but meet them he did. As a tactless child, he made a tasteless comment about Mrs. Darling's large belly upon meeting her, and later, while playing a pirate game in the living room (rather than the nursery, where they were supposed to be), he knocked over both a lamp _and _an expensive vase.

Mr. Darling had been livid, and Peter was unable to erase the image of his angry read face from his mind to this day. But he knew a lot more than he did then now, and so far things were going swimmingly. There wasn't anything around that was liable to break, and he knew better than to comment on any physical abnormalities that Tiger's parents might possess, so he figured he was golden. Still, he kept himself alert. Even he didn't know when he might do something stupid.

The end of the visit couldn't have come quickly enough. Of course Peter was always glad to spend time with Tiger Lily, this didn't really feel like spending time with her at all. She was sitting next to him the whole time and often holding his hand, but he was mainly talking with her parents and even if he was speaking to her, he wouldn't have been able to speak his mind with her parents sitting right there. Having her next to him and not being able to kiss her was almost as bad as not being near her at all. Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Lily decided it was getting late and said goodnight to Peter before heading upstairs together.

Tiger walked Peter to the door and out onto the porch. As soon as they were outside, Peter turned and kissed Tiger, cupping her face in his hands. She seemed surprised for a moment, and then, after a moment, kissed back. It was like a drink of water after a long trek through the desert—or at least, what Peter imagined that would feel like.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," Peter said somewhat breathlessly.

Tiger opened her mouth to speak, blushed, and said nothing. She looked down at the floor shyly.

"You look beautiful," he smiled sincerely.

"What?" she scoffed. "I'm wearing—pajamas, practically!"

"I know," Peter said, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I don't know how you do it—you always look amazing to me."

"I never knew you to be so corny," Tiger said, but she was smiling.

"Neither did I," Peter laughed, shrugging. "I can't believe I got through that whole thing without saying something dumb."

"Daddy really liked you," Tiger said, looking thoughtful.

"I think this has been _the _most awkward night of my life," Peter said. "But… worth it."

"Thank you," Tiger said, hugging Peter and nuzzling her nose into his neck.

He held her close and looked off down the road. It was late, but the full moon illuminated the night, turning the sky a dark blue color and lighting the way back to Peter's house. He didn't want to leave this porch, though. He wanted to stay with Tiger for as long as he could manage. He hoped this feeling would never wear off—hoped it wasn't just the relative newness of their relationship that made everything feel so elating.

"You should probably go home soon," Tiger said, but she didn't let go of Peter at all.

"I don't want to," Peter mumbled.

"I don't want you to," Tiger said.

After a couple minutes more, the couple pulled apart reluctantly.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Peter said.

"Yeah," Tiger forced a smile and said goodbye, going inside.

Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket as he started to walk to the sidewalk. He had felt it vibrate once while he was talking to Tiger's parents. It was from Wendy.

_How did it go?_

He pressed the "call" button. He figured it would be easier to do that than to send her a long text message attempting to summarize the night while properly conveying the extreme awkwardness of the situation.

"Hello?"

"Wendy! Hello!"

"Hi Peter… So what wound up happening?"

"Well, it was really awkward at first," he said. "But her parents both wound up being really nice, and her mom made tea—well, the tea was kind of gross—and cornbread, which was really good, but…"

He trailed off, thinking of how to put it.

"But you were bored out of your mind?" Wendy finished for him.

"God, yes," Peter said, and Wendy laughed knowingly. "I thought I was going to fall asleep, it was so boring… But I couldn't fall asleep, I had to pay attention, because otherwise I might, you know…"

"Knock over a lamp?" Wendy said, and he could hear the smile in his voice. "Or a vase?"

"Something like that," Peter replied, nodding even though she couldn't see it. "Anyway, I got their approval to take Tiger to Homecoming, I just have to go over and take pictures beforehand… A necessary evil, I guess."

"Are you on your way home now then?" Wendy asked.

"Yeah, I _really _didn't want to go though…" Peter said.

"I'm surprised you didn't climb in her window or something," Wendy said. "Like that time when—"

"Yeah, that's… You know what, Wendy, I'm almost home, so I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Peter said.

"Sure, Peter," Wendy said. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Wendy," Peter said.

He wasn't even halfway home, though. Instead, he turned around and headed back towards Tiger's house, texting her as he did.

_Still awake?_

He checked the time—it was just past ten. He stopped to call his foster mother and told her he'd be staying over a made-up friend's house. Most of his friends were girls, so he had invented a guy friend to use as an excuse for pretty much everything. His foster mother obviously couldn't check up on it since the guy didn't exist, and she wasn't too intrusive because, Peter suspected, she didn't want him to feel like she was overbearing or something. He saw the situation as it was and took advantage of it, manipulating it. The phone buzzed.

_Yeah, missing you already. :(_

He thought about letting her know that he was now standing outside her house, but instead he decided to surprise her. He was pretty skillful at climbing all kinds of things—rocks, trees, and, most importantly, houses. He knew which window was Tiger's from the times he had waved goodbye to her through it. He peeked inside. Tiger was laying on her bed looking at her phone. He tapped on the window and her head shot up. At first, her expression was shocked, and then she smiled wide. She came over and opened the window.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, but she was laughing. "You could get in so much trouble… for _both _of us."

"You can't get in trouble if you don't get caught," he whispered back.

"Peter, I—"

He leaned forward and kissed her and she didn't protest anymore. He continued kissing her as he climbed inside the window. They broke apart and Tiger closed the window back up.

"You're absolutely insane," she murmured.

"That's why you like me, right?" Peter smiled.

"I adore you," she smiled and gave him a quick peck.

Tiger went and locked the door, just in case one of her parents tried to come in the morning to wake her up before she and Peter awoke.

"I'll just tell them I'm getting dressed if they knock and wonder why it's locked," Tiger said. "Come on."

The pair climbed into her full sized bed and she turned off the lamp on her bedside table. Peter reached forward and brushed Tiger's hair away, then leaned forward and nuzzled her nose. She smiled, though she looked a bit nervous.

"Don't worry," Peter said. "We don't have to… do anything. I just want to be with you."

"Okay," Tiger said, looking a little more relaxed. "I just… I don't think I've ever had a boy in my bed before."

Peter smiled, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think I've ever been in a girl's bed before."

"It does a bit," Tiger smiled.

Peter lay back and Tiger snuggled in under his arm, resting her head against his chest. Peter thought it felt really nice. He wasn't ready to go any further than this anyway. He knew most guys his age would probably jump at the chance, but… this was enough for him, at least for now. If he was being honest with himself, he was a little nervous about the whole idea of it. There were just so many things going on there that he didn't quite understand yet, and he would need to be _really _comfortable with someone before he went that far. He could see it happening with Tiger Lily. In fact, he kind of hoped it would be with Tiger. But not now. For now, this was good. And he wouldn't want to spoil a good thing.


	15. Tiger, September 24

**XV.** Tiger, September 24

* * *

Tiger felt disoriented at first when she woke up. She was in her own familiar bed, but there was someone warm next to her—Peter was next to her. It took her half a minute to put the pieces together and remember what had happened the night before. She smiled for a moment, looking at Peter, still asleep beside her. She reached over and ruffled his messy reddish brown hair gently. Then the current situation suddenly occurred to her—it was Friday. What time was it? She looked up at the clock just as she heard her father's heavy footsteps in the hallway.

Tiger put a hand over Peter's mouth and jostled him awake. He looked at her in surprise at first, and she put a finger over her lips. He looked around her room, the look of realization slowly crossing his face. She smiled at him for a moment, then jumped at the pounding on the door.

"Tiger?" her father's voice boomed loudly. "Are you awake yet?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Tiger said, hopping out of bed and scurrying over to the dresser.

"Why is this door locked?" he asked, trying to turn the knob.

"I'm getting dressed right now," she said, trying to sound convincing as she rifled through the drawers.

"Okay, well—your mother is making breakfast," Mr. Lily said.

"Okay, I'll be right down!" Tiger said, then waited until she was sure her father was far enough and turned to Peter.

His clothes were completely disheveled, and he looked… well, adorable. He was opening the window as she walked over to him.

"That was close," Tiger whispered.

"I like to live dangerously," Peter said, and Tiger punched him lightly in the arm. "I'll see you later?"

"You're really going to climb out the window?" Tiger looked out it at the lawn with concern.

"I climbed up—climbing down will be a picnic," Peter said.

"Okay, well… be careful," Tiger said with uncertainty.

"Never," Peter smiled, gave her a quick kiss, and climbed out the window.

Tiger shook her head and watched him as he climbed down the side of the house and then hurried across the lawn and down the street. Then she hurried to get dressed and gather her things into her backpack before heading down to the dining room. Her mother and father were sitting at the table and there was a plate of food prepared for her. She smiled and sat down.

"Good morning," she said cheerily and began to eat.

"That Peter's a nice boy, isn't he?" Mrs. Lily said, and Tiger nearly choked on her food before realizing they were only talking about him because of last night.

"Oh, yes, he seemed nice enough," Mr. Lily said. "A bit… jittery, maybe, but very nice."

"You must be excited about Homecoming," Mrs. Lily turned to her daughter. "Do you want to go dress shopping this weekend? Or are you too cool to go shopping with your mom now?"

"Of course not," Tiger said. "I'd love to go dress shopping with you."

"Great," Mrs. Lily said. "You'd better eat up or you'll be late."

Tiger looked at her phone and saw that her mom was right. She drank down her orange juice and then headed out the door to catch the bus.

* * *

"Hey Wendy," Tiger said, taking what had become her usual desk next to Wendy's—the two had developed something of a friendship since the day they'd worked together in class, although Tiger couldn't help but sense just a little bit of tension.

"Hi Tiger," Wendy said, turning and looking very interested in talking to her. "How'd it go with Peter last night?"

"He didn't tell you?" Tiger asked, pulling her notebook out of her bag but not looking away from Wendy.

"Well, he said a little bit when he called me last night—something about nice parents, good cornbread—but then he just sort of abruptly left, I think he was tired or something," Wendy said with a shrug.

"You haven't talked to him today then?" Wendy shook her head, and Tiger looked around at the other students filing in and chattering loudly. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," Wendy said, and Tiger moved her desk over so that the two could talk quietly.

"He slept over," Tiger whispered.

"What?" Wendy said, eyes wide in an expression that could easily be interpreted a number of ways. "Your parents were okay with this?"

"They didn't know," Tiger said, blushing. "He just sort of… climbed in my window, it was all very romantic."

"Climbed in your window… I wonder where he got that idea," Wendy said.

"I know, it's kind of cliché, but it was nice," Tiger said. "I thought things like that only happened in movies."

"That's not what I—wait, so did you two…?" Wendy raised her eyebrows to imply what she was a bit too straight-laced to even say.

"Oh, no," Tiger shook her head, blushing again. "I—we're not ready for that, neither of us are. I know a lot of people like to rush into it these days, but…"

"No, I think waiting's best," Wendy said with a nod.

Tiger smiled and looked down at her hands for a moment, then back at Wendy, "So what about you, then? Met any cute boys this year?"

"Oh," Wendy let a small smile show. "I'm not interested in anyone right now."

"Your words say no, but that smile says yes," Tiger said good-naturedly. "It's okay, though, you don't have to tell me. My advice would be to go for it, though. Guys can be shy, too—sometimes they need a little push."

"Thanks, but… he's seeing someone," Wendy said, looking at her desk. "As much as I like him, I have to respect his decision and I wouldn't want to… I just wouldn't feel right breaking a girl's heart just to be with her boyfriend. It seems wrong."

"That's really nice of you," Tiger said. "You're a nice girl—I think any guy would be lucky to have you. You should tell him. Just let him know that you like him, and then let him make the decision. You can't feel bad if he happens to like you. You never know—maybe he was just too shy to ever say anything. And if he handles it badly, well… then you know he's not worth your time."

"Thanks," Wendy said. "But… I don't think so."

"Well, I can't make you do anything," Tiger said. "But I always thought it was better to know than to always wonder."

"Maybe," Wendy said.

Monsieur Chandelle walked into the room then with a flourish, talking in rapid, complicated French as he often would at the beginning of class in an always-hilarious attempt to disorient the students. Tiger smiled reassuringly at Wendy and moved her desk back in line, opening her notebook.

* * *

"He just climbed in your window?"

"Shh!" Tiger said. "I don't want too many people to know."

It was third block and Tiger was running around the track that surrounded the football field with Jane, a close friend since elementary school. Mr. Shan, their gym teacher, was on one end of the field barking at the students who ran by, but when they were far enough away from him they could slow down to a jog and talk.

"Oh my god, did you—?"

"No!" Tiger said. "Of course not. It's funny, Wendy had the same reaction."

"Wendy?"

"His best friend—she's in my French class," Tiger explained.

"I thought you wanted to keep this a secret," Jane said, looking sideways at Tiger.

"I _do_," Tiger said. "I mean, it's not a big deal, obviously, but you know how people can gossip and blow things out of proportion. Anyway I've only told you and Wendy, so."

"Does he know you want to keep it quiet?" Jane asked. "You know how boys can talk."

"I hadn't thought about it," Tiger said. "I guess it's not a big deal if he wants to tell people, but… I don't think he will. He's sweet."

"Adorable."

"What?"

"Well, you're obviously head-over-heels for this guy," Jane said.

"What, I'm not allowed to like my boyfriend?" Tiger asked. "Of course, proper Jane wouldn't know a thing about liking boys, would she?"

"Shut up," Jane said, blushing.

"Oh, so there is a boy, then?"

"Maybe—well, no," Jane shook her head.

"Pick up the pace, ladies!" Mr. Shan barked at them as they approached. "I said _run_ five laps, not 'take a leisurely stroll around the field' for five laps. Come on!"

The two sprinted around the curve of the track until they were out of Mr. Shan's field of vision, then slowed down.

"So who is it, then?" Tiger asked.

"It's really nothing—_really_," Jane said. "Just a harmless crush, you could say—this guy in my art class. But he's a senior, and… a bit… rough around the edges. All things considered, he's really not my type."

"But you _are _attracted to him?" Tiger said, and Jane shrugged. "Ah!"

"Don't say a _word_," Jane said, giving Tiger what was supposed to be a serious look, but then giggling a little.

"I think that kid just double lapped us," Tiger said. "But we'll continue this conversation _later_."

Tiger ran ahead with Jane following close behind.

* * *

"Guess who?"

Tiger was sitting at a table at lunch with Jane when her vision was suddenly blocked out. She put her fork down and crossed her arm.

"Let's see… could it be… Peter Pan?"

He took his hands off her eyes and sat down next to her.

"However did you guess?" Peter said, feigning shock. "Did you recognize my strong, manly hands?"

"Please," Tiger pushed him playfully. "Hey—you cleaned up nicely. Did you… change your clothes?"

"I keep a change of clothes in my locker just in case," Peter said. "And I took a shower in the locker room this morning."

"Ah," Tiger nodded. "So what are you doing over here? Don't you usually eat with Wendy?"

"Yeah, she's sitting over with Mulan and Rapunzel now," Peter said. "I thought I could sit with you today, though—unless you're sick of me already."

Tiger smiled, "Why don't we all eat together?"

"That sounds like a great idea," Peter said, picking up Tiger's tray. "As long as Jane doesn't mind coming along."

"Of course not," Jane said.

"You two go ahead," Tiger said. "I invited this kid from my history class to sit with us today. I'll go find him and let him know where we'll be at."

Peter and Jane headed over to the table where the other three girls sat, and Tiger began looking around the food lines for Mowgli. She and Mowgli shared Mr. Ratcliffe's second block World History class. They were usually seated near each other and today they had gotten to talking and Tiger took a liking to him. He had a bit of an off-beat sense of humor and, yes, he was a little bit of a troublemaker. But he was more of the kind of troublemaker who didn't even realize that what he was doing wasn't in line with what was expected—and that's what got him into trouble. At the same time, Tiger got the impression he was having a little bit of trouble adjusting to the whole "high school" thing, so she decided to give him a place to sit at lunch. She found him standing in line to pay for his lunch.

"Hey Mowgli," she stepped into line beside him.

"Hey," he said, smiling somewhat shyly.

"I just wanted to let you know we decided to move to a different table," Tiger said. "My boyfriend invited us to sit with him and his friends, so we're going to be sitting over that way instead."

She pointed towards the table.

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute," Mowgli said, and Tiger headed off back to the table with a nod.

"He'll be right over," she said as she sat down next to Peter.

"What did you say his name was?" Peter asked.

"I didn't," Tiger said. "It's Mowgli."

"What kind of name is that?" Peter asked.

"Just don't make fun of him," Tiger shushed him. "He seems like he's having a kind of rough time and I wanted to do something nice. Plus he seems like a cool kid. I actually think you two will get along."

Mowgli sat down at the table less than a minute later and Tiger began introducing him to the others at the table. When she finally got to Peter, Mowgli looked at him in awe.

"Wow, Peter Pan," he said.

"That would be my name," Peter said.

"I just… I've heard about some things you did… pranks you pulled last year, and you were a freshman?" Mowgli said, looking admiringly at Peter.

"Well, I'm sure some of the stories have been exaggerated…" Peter said.

"Even if they were… wow!" Mowgli said.

Tiger looked at Peter knowingly. He was clearly pleased that his name had been recognized and that this kid looked up to him. And she was proud that he was her boyfriend. He looked at her and she leaned in for a quick kiss, almost forgetting where she was. She pulled away and looked back at her tray. The entrée was undoubtedly cold by now, but she at least had a bag of potato chips to hold her over until after school. She looked up and caught Wendy's gaze, and she didn't look happy. The expression struck Tiger, as Wendy always seemed so poised. Then she realized that Wendy was looking at Peter, and things seemed suddenly clear. She felt stupid for not noticing it before. She suddenly remembered the advice she had given Wendy earlier that day, and wished she could take it back. But then she looked over at Peter, who was looking at her, not at Wendy. It didn't seem like a concern. Truthfully, Tiger felt bad for Wendy—because she did like Wendy, and she didn't want to see her hurt. But she felt confident that even if Wendy did confess her feelings to Peter, it wouldn't change a thing.


	16. Jane, September 24

**XVI.** Jane, September 24

* * *

Eighth block was the best part of the school day for Jane, and not just because it was the final class of the day. This last class was Fine Art 1 with Mrs. Radcliffe. Not only was Mrs. Radcliffe the nicest teacher Jane had yet encountered at Walt Disney High School, but art was also her favorite subject. She looked forward to taking as many art classes as her open electives would allow during her four years here. That would at least make the prospect of going to the school that her father taught biology at manageable. It wasn't that she didn't like her father. The two actually got along quite well, but that didn't really make a difference. Knowing that her father could easily be keeping watch on her all the time was a bit unnerving, even though Jane wasn't one to do anything her father wouldn't approve of. Still, it would be nice to know that if she _did _want to do something just a little bit out of line, she would be able to get away with it. That's what high school is all about, right?

The other thing that made Fine Art the best part of Jane's day was the boy she had told Tiger Lily about. She already regretted telling someone, just a little bit—something about having a secret crush was thrilling in its own way. Regardless, it didn't inhibit her ability to admire him from afar. On first glance, he looked like a little bit of a bad boy—long dreadlocks, angular features, dark eyes. But Jane knew better than to judge a book by its cover. She hadn't interacted with him one-on-one per se—okay, she hadn't even been within a few feet of him—but had learned a couple of things about him. He didn't answer questions unless called on, and it was clear he didn't know much of anything about art. Jane didn't get the impression that he was stupid, though—just that he didn't know the topic. She had gathered from the blonde girl who sat at his table's gossipy chatter that he was a senior on the football team. And she knew that his name was Tarzan. But that was the extent of her knowledge about the mysterious older boy—and probably always would be, she figured. And that was okay.

"Hello class!" Mrs. Radcliffe walked into the room dressed in several shades of blue. "How is everyone today?"

A few people made grumbling noises, but there was no coherent response.

"That's no good," Mrs. Radcliffe said, tying on a purple waist apron with pockets that she kept art supplies in. "Hopefully doing some portraits will cheer you all up!"

A couple of people groaned.

"Well, you can't blame me for trying," Mrs. Radcliffe shrugged. "That's what we'll be doing today—portraits. So I'm going to have you pair up—" A couple of people got up or began moving their chairs, but Mrs. Radcliffe. "Ah, but I can't make it that easy. I decided on pairings for all of you to make this project more challenging. I know, I know, I'm sorry—but if you weren't learning anything, I wouldn't be doing my job! Here's what I'm going to have you all do: after I've paired you up today and finished explaining the assignment, one of you will begin drawing the other. On Monday, you'll switch, and so on until… next Friday, October 1. I think that's when I'll have it be due. If anyone needs additional time, as always I'll be willing to discuss it."

She went on to describe her expectations about the project and the tools which the students would be allowed to use to create the portraits. Jane was excited. She had done self-portraits in elementary school and she had drawn pictures of her father, but she had never had the opportunity to sit down with another person her age and just draw them. She wondered who she would be partnered with. Of course, she hoped it would be Tarzan—not just because of her attraction to him, but because his features were so distinctive and would undoubtedly be interesting to draw.

"Okay, time to pair you up," Mrs. Radcliffe reached for a clipboard on her desk and flipped back a few pages. "First up is… Lottie and Flynn."

Lottie—the blonde who usually sat with Tarzan—squealed and leapt from her chair to go and sit by Flynn.

"It will be a privilege to get to draw such a handsome man," Lottie said in a light and flirtatious manner.

"The pleasure is all mine," Flynn said with what was probably considered a dashing smile.

Jane couldn't help but roll her eyes at the small disruption, then listened intently as the rest of the list was called. Finally Mrs. Radcliffe reached her name.

"Jane, you'll be working with… Tarzan," she announced.

Jane kept herself composed, not wanting to betray her excitement to the rest of the class. She glanced over at Tarzan, and saw that he was looking at her—he knew who she was! She had been afraid, for a moment, that he wouldn't even know who he was paired with. But he was looking right at her. She gave him a subtle smile, and then looked back at Mrs. Radcliffe. Unsure if he was still looking at her, she kept herself composed and sat up straight. She waited until Mrs. Radcliffe had finished calling all of the students' names to move over to Lottie's old seat at Tarzan's table.

"Hi, I'm Jane," she said as she sat down.

"I know," he said, and she felt like her heart was going to leap out of her chest from how hard it was beating.

Mrs. Radcliffe was going around the room putting paper, pencils, and erasers on all of the tables, starting with the tables on the opposite side of the room. Tarzan was looking at the table and Jane tried not to stare at him too much—she would get to do plenty of that once they started working.

"So… do you like art, Tarzan?" Jane asked, wanting to get a conversation started and alleviate any potential future awkwardness.

He shrugged. This was going to be a long week.

"Well… I like it," Jane said. "It's my favorite subject. What do you like?"

"I like… gym," Tarzan said.

"Is that all you like?" Jane asked, hoping she didn't sound too frustrated—it was like pulling teeth.

"History can be good," Tarzan responded after a moment's pause. "And Literature, sometimes. History is best, though. I don't have any history classes this year."

"I like history, too," Jane said. "I have World History with Mr. Ratcliffe right now."

"I liked that class," Tarzan said. "But Mr. Ratcliffe is a dick."

"Yes," Jane said, laughing involuntarily. "Yes, yes, he is—that sometimes. Most of the time, actually."

Mrs. Radcliffe finally reached their table and put the necessary materials down. Jane grabbed an easel from the counter at the back of the room and brought it back to the table.

"Did you want to go first or should I?" Jane asked, although she had assumed she would start, clearly being the one who was more enthused about the task.

"You go ahead," Tarzan said.

Jane set up the easel at a convenient angle to where Tarzan was sitting and clipped the paper to it. She picked up the pencil and began sketching lightly.

"You like drawing?"

"Well yes," Jane shrugged, concentrated on the work she was doing.

"I don't want to draw you," Tarzan said.

Jane tried not to let the annoyance she felt at those words show on her face. What was _that _supposed to mean? Was that some thinly veiled insult—he just didn't want to have to look at her? She should've known better—football players were known for being rather brutish, and there was truth in every stereotype. Still, as always, Jane kept her composure.

"Any particular reason why?" Jane asked, trying not to press down too hard on the pencil.

"You're very pretty," Tarzan said, as though that was an explanation.

Jane felt her face growing hot. She hadn't been expecting that at _all_. She knew she was blushing profusely and wished she could somehow hide her face. She tried to position herself behind the easel so Tarzan could see as little of her face as possible as she tried to formulate a response. Surely that was some kind of cruel joke—but it didn't _sound _like one. And Jane couldn't imagine what it had to do with Tarzan not wanting to draw her.

"I—thank you, Tarzan," Jane said. "That's very nice. But why don't you want to draw me?"

"That _is _why," Tarzan said. "I'm not good at drawing—if I draw you, the drawing won't be as pretty as you are. I don't see the point—I'd rather take a picture."

Jane cleared her throat to stop herself from potentially choking in surprise.

"That's… sweet," Jane said, and it was—one of the sweetest things anyone had said to her, as far as she could remember. "You really just need practice though—perhaps I could help you. I can walk you through the basics of drawing, and then your drawing won't be so bad. The more practice you get, the better you'll be. But if you never try… well then, you'll never be any good."

"I guess," Tarzan said.

Jane figured she might as well take a chance—now seemed as good a time as any.

"Maybe I could give you some pointers… after school sometime?" she suggested, trying to sound casual.

"Maybe we could do that this weekend," Tarzan said, then quickly added, "I mean… if you're not busy. It's Friday, I'm sure you have—"

"No, this weekend is great!" Jane blurted before she could shut herself up. "Um, perhaps we could… meet up at the café and I could… show you over coffee?"

Jane could hardly believe how forward she was being. She didn't _mean _for it to sound like she was asking him on a date, but that was the way it came out. She just kind of hoped that he didn't hear it that way, since it wasn't even what she had intended. Or, alternately, if he _did _hear it that way, she hoped that he would be partial to the idea and would accept. But either way if he accepted she wouldn't know which way he had heard it and therefore could never be sure whether the meeting was intended as a date or not. What a mess.

"I would like that," Tarzan said.

Jane just smiled, not sure of what else she could say on the subject without putting her foot in her mouth.

"Jane—impressive!" Mrs. Radcliffe said as she came to Tarzan and Jane's table as she was making her rounds. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"I like to draw in my spare time," Jane smiled. "I draw animals and plants the most, but… I'll really draw anything."

"Let me see," Tarzan said, peeking around the easel to look at the outline of his face on the page. "Wow—you really are good."

"Keep it up!" Mrs. Radcliffe said, giving Jane an encouraging pat on the shoulder before moving on to the next table.

Jane and Tarzan said very little for the rest of the class, but Jane felt that Tarzan was watching her intently the whole time. Of course, it could have just been that he was looking at her because he kind of had to for the assignment, but Jane felt that it was more than that—or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Still, something about his dark eyes made his gaze seem profound whether it was or not.

At the end of class, Tarzan gave Jane his number on a scrap of paper so that they could set up a time to meet up on Sunday. Jane clutched the crumpled slip of paper tightly in her hand as the bell rang and all the students filed out, rushing to their buses. She took her time wandering slowly down the hallway. Once the hallways were relatively clear, she took her cell phone out and put the number into it, finally putting the paper into the pocket of her skirt. On second thought, she took it out and tossed it in a waste basket—she wouldn't want her father to find it and ask questions. All her friends up to this point had been girls and she wasn't sure at all how her father would react to the idea of her having a male companion, never mind a potential date. She shook her head at herself—she was being silly. She had no reason to believe that Tarzan was interested in her in that way. Except that he had called her pretty. And asked to hang out that weekend. And stared at her with _those _eyes. Okay, so there was potential. And she had a crush.

She knocked on the doorframe of the biology classroom, standing under the arch. Mr. Porter looked up from the papers at his desk and leapt up. He hurried over and gave Jane a hug, which she leaned down to return.

"Oh, Jane, my dear, how was your day?"

"It was wonderful, Daddy—I mean, it was good," she said, sitting down at one of the desks.

"Wonderful, eh?" Mr. Porter inquired, raising his bushy gray eyebrows.

"It was just—art class was very good," Jane said. "We're doing portraits now, and I'm very excited about it. Mrs. Radcliffe is a wonderful teacher…"

"Yes, she is quite a nice lady," Mr. Porter said. "She's married to the music teacher—I don't know if you knew that."

"I'd heard," Jane nodded.

"They've got quite a number of dogs, or so I've been told," Mr. Porter mused. "That clothing construction teacher—Ms. de Vil, she's always going on about them."

"I've heard she can be rather nasty," Jane said. "I don't understand why they've got her teaching just the clothing classes—I mean, there's just not much demand for art classes at this school, do they really need any more than Mrs. Radcliffe?"

"Well, I really ought not to talk about other members of the faculty, but…" Mr. Porter looked around, then walked over to close the door. "Ms. de Vil has worked here for a long while, and I think they mainly keep her around because… they can't really fire her at this point, she's been here for so long. So they just let her teach the one class and then they don't have to deal with the hassle of letting her go."

"There are a disproportionate number of really bad teachers at this school," Jane said.

"I know," Mr. Porter said. "I wish I'd gotten a job somewhere a bit… nicer. But the good teachers make up for it pretty nicely, I think. And however… evil… the teachers might be, the quality of education is unarguably quite good. Colleges seem to like us, anyway."

"Oh, don't worry, Daddy," Jane assured him. "I wouldn't want to leave here anyway. I couldn't leave the friends I've made, and I think… I'm making some new ones as well."

"Glad to hear it," Mr. Porter smiled and his mustache twitched. "I'm going to be about ten minutes to gather my things together, do you want to wait outside for me? It's a beautiful day, or so I've heard."

"Sure," Jane said.

She leaned over and gave her father a kiss on the forehead, then headed out and sat on the curb outside the building. It _was _a nice day. The sun was shining, there were only a few puffy white clouds in the sky, and this weekend was going to be phenomenal, she was sure of it. She took out her phone and opened her contact list. She scrolled down to "T"—there was Tarzan's name. She felt a small surge of excitement at the very idea that she had his number in his phone. She scrolled down to "Tiger" and opened the screen to send a text.

_He gave me his number!_


	17. Lottie, September 27

**XVII.** Lottie, September 27

* * *

The bright pink lunch bag landed on the table with a loud thud. Everyone seated around it had no choice but to look up and sit in awe of Charlotte La Bouff's dazzling form—or at least, that was the effect she had intended. She kept her focus on the man in the next seat, as looking around to make sure all eyes were on her would ruin the whole spectacle. The important thing was that Naveen was looking, and how could he not?

Lottie was looking her absolute best this Monday afternoon. Her blonde 'do was impeccably hairsprayed into submission, she had spent nearly an hour perfecting her makeup, putting special focus on bringing out her eyes, and she was dressed to impress in a little pink dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. Lottie was a girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it—and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

"May I sit here?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes skillfully.

"Um," Naveen gawked up at her, and she could see the lump in his throat move as he swallowed, then quickly shook off the surprise and composed himself. "Of course! Go right ahead."

"Thank you," Lottie smiled sweetly and took the seat next to Naveen.

Now that she had been invited to sit, she looked around at the others sitting around the table. All eyes were on her. Perfect.

"Flynn and I already know each other, of course—art class—but why don't you introduce me to the rest of your friends, Naveen?"

She recognized most of them, but she knew how to keep the focus where it needed to be. Almost everyone else at the table was a senior, and all of them were older than her. More likely than not, they didn't know who she was—but they would. Naveen introduced Lottie to Flynn, Jasmine, Thomas, John Smith, and Adam. Adam was the only one Lottie didn't know of before—he was a senior, apparently, but also rather quiet, if this meeting was any indication. He had long reddish hair that he let fall around his face as he leaned over to eat his food, and Naveen said something about how they jammed together sometimes. At a table full of kids Lottie would have labeled the "cool kids," Adam was a bit of an anomaly. But Lottie decided not to dwell on it. She figured she could always ask Naveen about it later when they were… better acquainted.

"Where do you normally sit—Lottie, was it?" Jasmine asked, taking a sip of her soup.

"Just with a few of my girl friends—Tiana, Ariel, and Belle," Lottie said.

She noticed Adam look up as she said the last name. She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You know Belle?" she asked.

"What?" Adam said, his voice low and rough. "No."

She smiled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"You're friends with Tiana?" Naveen asked casually, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Yeah, she's like, my _best _friend ever," Lottie gushed, finally opening her lunch box and taking out a bag with cut up pieces of a pink lady apple.

"Really?" Naveen said, although it didn't really sound like a question. "I have cooking class with her."

"I know, she told me all about it," Lottie said, stretching the truth a bit—Tiana had really only mentioned it, and refused to say much more despite Lottie's badgering.

"She mentioned me?" Naveen looked up, looking surprised.

"Well no," Lottie smiled, touching Naveen's arm strategically. "I was the one who brought you up, actually, and Tiana merely noted that you had a class together."

"I see," Naveen said.

"God, I am just dying for something sweet," Jasmine suddenly blurted. "Thomas, could you go buy me a cookie or _something_?"

"Of course, babe," Thomas said, giving Jasmine a quick peck on the lips before hurrying off to the dessert line.

"How sweet," Lottie said, then turned to Naveen. "Let's cut to the chase then, hm?"

"What?" Naveen said, genuinely perplexed.

"The whole reason I'm here—I think you're a very handsome man, Mr. Naveen Maldon," Lottie said, the corners of her lips curling up and her eyes becoming especially wide.

"Why, um, thank you, you're a very pretty girl," Naveen nodded. "I, um—"

"Basically… I think it would make _sense _for you and I to… you know… date," Lottie said. "Specifically, I think you should take me to the homecoming dance."

"We—are you—did you just ask me to go to homecoming with you?" Naveen said—Lottie thought the accent made his confusion especially adorable.

"Of course not," Lottie gave him a very light and playful shove. "Don't be silly. I'm merely suggesting that _you _invite _me _to go to homecoming with you."

"I… I see," Naveen said. "Well, it is just this weekend… Not much time to prepare…"

"Oh, I already have a dress," Lottie said. "So—what do you say, mister?"

"Well," Naveen said. "I don't think the school cafeteria is really the best… venue to ask a girl to homecoming. Not very… romantic."

"You're right," Lottie said, looking thoughtful, then taking out a piece of paper and a pen. "Well, just let me know where to be and when and I'll be very much looking forward to it."

Lottie slid the piece of paper with her number written on it over to Naveen, blew a kiss, and made a sufficiently dramatic exit. She headed back over to her normal table, feeling accomplished. Tiana, Belle, and Ariel looked up at her questioningly when she sat back down.

"What was that all about?" Tiana asked.

"Oh, I just got a date for homecoming," Lottie said, pulling out a cosmetic mirror and making sure her hair was still in place.

"Really?" Ariel looked admiringly at Lottie, eyes wide.

"Naveen asked you?" Tiana asked.

"Don't sound so surprised!" Lottie chided.

"Well, how did he do it?" Belle asked, putting the book she had been engrossed in down.

"Well, he hasn't done it—yet," Lottie smiled at the girls, then reapplied her lipstick with a smack.

* * *

Lottie sat in art class, daydreaming as Flynn sketched her portrait. She was irresistible today and she knew it. As she had walked down the hallway earlier, she could feel the ogling eyes of many of the boys… and probably some of the girls, too—Lottie was fairly innocent, but she wasn't naïve. There was no way Naveen would be able to resist her now, she was sure of it. She sat imagining the coming weekend and how perfect it would be.

Lottie already had her dress—it was a short, frilly thing, yet simple. Of course it was pink—hot pink. It was strapless and the top had a nice heart shape to it. The waist was tied with a lighter pink bow, and everything below the bow was layers of various shades of pink tulle. It only fell to about mid-thigh, but it was very cute. Lottie had an appointment at the local salon to get her hair, nails, and makeup done and she had a perfect imagine in her mind of how she wanted to look, and she had no reservations about instructing the hair, nail, and makeup artists in how it should be done.

And Naveen, of course, would pick her up looking handsome in a clean-cut suit with a pink tie to match her dress. He would give her a bouquet of flowers, maybe, and then they would drive off in his car and arrive in style. At homecoming, they would dance the night away. All eyes would be on them, but they would only have eyes for each other. And then, at the end of the night, he would bring her home and give her a kiss, and it would be extremely romantic. They would be the school's number one power couple, breaking hearts and making all the boys and girls jealous.

"What are you so smiley about?" Flynn asked.

"Huh?" Lottie said, being jolted back into reality.

"You were grinning," Flynn said.

"Was I?" Lottie blushed. "I was just thinking."

She heard a light buzzing from her backpack and she looked around. Mrs. Radcliffe was on the other side of the room, so it was safe. She reached down and looked at the phone under the table. It was an unfamiliar number, but Lottie was pretty sure she knew who it was.

_Meet me in the park at 4._

"There's that smile again."

* * *

"Fancy seeing you here," Lottie said as she approached the white gazebo at the park in the center of town.

Naveen was sitting in the gazebo wearing a collared shirt and nice trousers, holding a dozen pink roses. An acoustic guitar was laid down on the bench next to him. He stood and handed the flowers to Lottie as she stepped into the gazebo.

"Why thank you," she said, burying her nose into the flowers for a moment.

"Ms. La Bouff," Naveen said rather formally, "I would very much like to ask you to accompany me to the homecoming dance this Saturday."

"Why, Mr. Maldon, _what _a surprise!" Lottie said convincingly with a smile. "I would be honored to be your date."

"Great," Naveen said, clearly unsure of what was to come next.

Lottie looked at the guitar on the bench.

"Were you playing before I got here?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I was," Naveen said, walking over and picking the guitar up by the neck.

"Why don't you play me a little song, then?" Lottie asked, sitting down on the bench.

Naveen sat down next to her, "What would you like to hear?"

"Anything," Lottie said. "How about whatever you were playing before?"

"How about I teach you how to play?" Naveen smiled and offered her the guitar.

"Um… sure, okay," Lottie said, taking the guitar awkwardly and trying to hold it the way she'd seen Naveen do it.

"Like this," Naveen said, and he moved her arms into position and wrapped her left hand around the neck.

He found a pick for her to use in the change pouch of his wallet. He showed her some simple chords and how to strum, and then he taught her a little bit of "Greensleeves," which she stumbled her way through.

"I'm not very good at this," she said.

"That's okay," Naveen said. "Nobody is at first—it takes practice. And I'm not a very good teacher."

"No, you're just fine," Lottie said with a smile.

"Do you like music, Lottie?" Naveen asked.

"Of course I do—who doesn't like music?"

"I meant… do you play?" he clarified. "Or do you sing or anything?"

"I'm not much of a singer, I'm afraid," Lottie said. "We have a piano at our house, but I never took lessons or anything. I do really appreciate music, though."

"And it's never too late to learn, of course," Naveen assured her.

"Well, I think it's a little too late for me," Lottie said, handing Naveen back his guitar. "I think I was put on this earth to dance!"

She stood and twirled and asked Naveen to play something she could dance to. He played "Twist and Shout" and the two sang along, neither of them serious, as Lottie danced around the gazebo playfully.

"And that's just a _taste _of what you'll see on Saturday," Lottie said with a wink as she sat back down next to Naveen.

"I can't wait," Naveen said. "Say, is Tiana going?"

"To the dance?" Lottie said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, she is your best friend, I would think if you didn't have dates the two of you would be going together," Naveen explained. "Unless—does she have a date?"

"No, not as far as she's told me," Lottie said. "But the group of us girls were going together—me, Tiana, Ariel, and Belle. I imagine the three of them will get along just fine without me."

"Ah, I see," Naveen said. "How long have the two of you known each other for?"

"Oh, since _forever_," Lottie said. "I can't ever remember a time when I didn't know Tiana. She's always been a part of my life."

"That's nice," Naveen said. "She's a nice girl."

"Oh, she's a darling," Lottie smiled. "But anyway—play me another song."

"Another song you can dance to?" Naveen asked.

"No, play something…" Lottie thought for a moment. "You never did play for me before when I asked you. Play whatever you were practicing before I got here."

"Okay," Naveen nodded.

He held the guitar for a moment thoughtfully. He seemed to be preparing himself mentally, running over the chords and lyrics in his mind before he began. Finally he wrapped his fingers around the neck of the guitar, pressing the strings down. He started to play. Lottie knew the song—it was an old one and she had heard it on the radio before. The tempo was fast but the tone was sort of dark and the lyrics were sad and intense. Lottie sat quietly and intently as Naveen played. She watched him closely, focusing on his expression and the words he was singing. He had a beautiful voice. His accented singing gave the lyrics an authenticity to Lottie, and she was drawn in by the way they sounded on top of the simple acoustic guitar.

"However far away, I will always love you," Naveen sang. "However long I stay, I will always love you. Whatever words I say, I will always love you, I will always love you."

When he finished the song, Naveen put the guitar down and looked at Lottie to hear her thoughts. She looked at him with glossy eyes. She was clutching the bouquet of roses to her chest and she stared off into the distance, feeling a bit lost and dreamy.

"That was very beautiful," she whispered.

"It's just a song, Lottie."


	18. Adam, September 28 to 29

**XVIII. **Adam, September 28 to 29

* * *

Adam was sure he had never felt this way before about anyone. He had thought about girls, sure—what teenage boy hadn't? But this girl—this Belle—she was different. He felt nervous around her, but that didn't stop him from wanting to be around her all the time. He couldn't figure out when this feeling had started—they hadn't known each other for very long, and he had resisted her friendship for the most part—but it was a Tuesday morning when he first realized how he felt.

Belle had chosen him as a partner again—as she did whenever working in groups was required—in their Senior Lit class. Adam could not understand why she was being so kind to him. He had been nothing but rude to her when class first began. It was sort of his form of a defense mechanism. He was used to being picked on, being the brunt of the more popular kids' jokes. So when a pretty girl started talking to him and seemingly trying to help him, he couldn't help but assume that she had some kind of ulterior motive.

Maybe she was making fun of him, he thought. But at this point, he couldn't see why she would keep it up if she had malicious intent. She was not only kind, but patient, and he was actually learning quite a bit from her.

They had never spoken about the day three weeks ago when Belle had seen—and presumably heard—Adam practicing guitar and singing in the chorus room. Belle never mentioned it, and Adam was embarrassed about the whole thing and hoped it could just be forgotten. It didn't stop him from going down to the chorus room almost every day that the chorus didn't have after-school practice, but he had a strong feeling he wouldn't see Belle down there again. Something about the way she had disappeared as soon as he saw her suggested that she was about as embarrassed as he was.

"Adam, what do you think the answer is?" Belle asked, pointing to the second question on the grammar worksheet Mrs. Tremaine had handed out.

"I don't know," Adam said, rubbing his eyes.

"Come on, you have to at least try," Belle said, but her voice was sweet and encouraging. "It's not too hard, you just—"

"Why are you helping me?" Adam asked, letting his arms fall loudly onto the desk. "Why are you being so nice?"

His voice sounded almost like a growl, and Belle looked surprised. He hadn't intended to sound so harsh. She blinked at him and didn't say anything for a moment.

"Well, if you don't want my help, you can just do the assignment on your own," Belle said, beginning to move her desk away from Adam's.

"Wait," Adam said, reaching out and grabbing Belle's arm. "Don't… I'm sorry."

Belle looked perplexed, but she pushed the desk back up against Adam's and sat down. She began to explain the question and Adam was honestly listening, but he couldn't help but be a little bit distracted. Why hadn't he noticed how beautiful she was before? Well, maybe he had noticed, but he hadn't allowed himself to think about it. Her smile was the best part. He wished she was smiling now. Maybe she would be if he hadn't been such an ass.

"Do you understand?" she asked.

"I think so," Adam said. "Um… is it B?"

"Yes, it is," Belle said, and she smiled.

Adam found himself smiling back as he circled the correct answer. He decided he would try harder, if only for Belle.

"Belle," Adam said, clearing his throat quietly. "Why are you helping me—really?"

Belle looked up, not looking as appalled by the question when it was said in a far nicer tone.

"Because I like you," Belle said matter-of-factly, as though the answer should have been obvious.

"I… I like you, too," Adam said, not being able to think of any other response—although he wasn't sure if they meant "like" in the same way.

* * *

Adam lied down on the highest riser in the chorus room, setting his guitar on the second riser down just below him. He didn't know what to think—or what to do—about his newly realized feelings for Belle. He had never had a girlfriend before, not because girls didn't like him. Sure, he wasn't a _magnet_ for girls, but the lonely brooding musician gig had a few fans. But he had never been interested in a girl before. He was a loner and he liked it that way, or so he had thought.

He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail with the elastic he had around his wrist, and picked up the guitar. He plucked a few notes of the song he had been working on. The lyrics were all wrong. They were shallow and meaningless. He wanted to write about something else—something more meaningful. He wanted to write about Belle.

"Hmm hmm hmm…" Adam substituted humming for missing lyrics, "…something there that wasn't there before."

He put the guitar to the side and pulled out a notebook. The lyrics to the song he had been working on were written there. He ripped the page out and threw it in the trash and began writing new lyrics.

* * *

Wednesday morning, Adam chose his clothes more carefully. He wanted to impress Belle. Unfortunately, most of his wardrobe was rather unimpressive. It was filled with ripped jeans and faded band t-shirts. He finally found a plain dark blue t-shirt and dark, clean-cut jeans. It was simple, but it would have to do. He pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail. There wasn't much that could be done about the tangles, but at least he could get it out of his face. He hoped Belle would at least notice the effort he'd made.

He arrived at school pretty early and went right up the English classroom and took his normal seat. He was one of the first to arrive, but Belle didn't show up until the room was about half-full. She walked in reading a book and didn't even look up as she made her way to her seat and sat down. She was pretty engrossed in the pages and Adam thought it would be rude to interrupt.

"Did you see that?" Gaston scoffed. "That's not even one of the books we're _supposed _to be reading. I already knew that girl was crazy when she said she didn't want any of this, but this just proves it."

Belle didn't look up, but Adam could tell she was listening from the way her face changed. She furrowed her brow and her lips formed a thin, straight line. She didn't say anything, though, and pretended to stay focused on her book.

"What's wrong, Belle?" Gaston teased from across the room. "Nothing to say? Maybe she's deaf, too."

"Shut up, Gaston," Adam said as harshly as he could manage. "Nobody likes you, especially Belle—maybe you should just leave her alone."

"And who the hell are you?" Gaston asked, unfazed.

"I'm… I'm her friend," Adam said, standing up and trying to look intimidating.

"Her friend," Gaston laughed, and a couple of others laughed as well. "You must be as crazy as she is."

"I told you… leave her alone," Adam said as he walked closer to Gaston so the two were near each other.

"Or what?" Gaston asked.

Adam raised his fist to punch Gaston in the face, but Gaston just reached forward and shoved Adam, who fell to the ground. He should have known better—he was just making a fool of himself in front of Belle, not to mention everyone else. Gaston was the strongest football player at WDHS, except maybe Hercules, and Adam was just a scrawny little musician. Completely hopeless. Adam tried to push himself up off the ground, and then he saw that Belle had come and was crouching by his side.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"He was disrespecting you," Adam said quietly. "I couldn't just… let that go."

"Look at that—two freaks," Gaston said, smiling deviously. "They were practically made for each other. It's too bad such an insane girl had to have such a perfect body."

"That's enough!" Adam said, standing despite the pain he felt from landing so hard on the ground. "Belle is a beautiful, intelligent girl and you're only doing this because she's too good for you and she knows it."

"You should take that back if you know what's good for you," Gaston said, his expression contorting into one of anger—clearly he knew that what Adam was saying was true.

"Never," Adam said, preparing himself for however Gaston's wrath would manifest itself.

He saw Gaston's fist hurdling towards him, and then nothing.

* * *

Everything was a blurry combination of white and bright lights. Adam couldn't tell where he was but he slowly began to feel himself and he realized that everything hurt. His back and his chest ached, but his face was the worst part. He reached up with his right hand and felt a bandage over his nose. It was tender and even pressing on it lightly made him cringe in pain. And then he realized that there was something in his left hand. No—someone was holding it. He looked, blinking and squinting.

"Belle?" he murmured, and his voice cracked.

"Yes, it's me," she said quietly.

"Wha—what—"

"Gaston punched you in the face, knocked you out," Belle said. "Mrs. Tremaine walked in right then."

"And she let you come with me to the nurse's office?"

"No," Belle admitted, and held up two slips of paper. "Monday detention slips. One for you, for engaging in a fight, and one for me because I told her I was accompanying you to the nurse and there was nothing she could do about it."

"I hope Gaston got a detention too—hopefully not the same one?" Adam said, imagining how hellish it would be for the three of them to be in detention together.

"Rumor has it he got suspended," Belle said. "If so, it'd be the first time justice was ever implemented at this school."

"Thank you," Adam said.

"For what?" Belle asked, looking at Adam as though maybe his head was not yet quite clear.

"For coming here with me," Adam said.

"What you did was very stupid—"

"I know."

"But it was also brave," Belle said, giving his hand a squeeze. "No one's ever stood up for me quite like that before."

"What about Shang?" Adam asked, remembering that day when he first noticed Belle.

"Well… what he did was nice, of course," Belle said. "But it was a different situation. Shang did what he did because he was sort of on an equal plane with Gaston and it was the right thing to do. Shang knew Gaston wouldn't beat him up or try to retaliate. And he didn't even really know me, he just did it out of… I don't know, chivalry or something. You… Well, no offense, but I don't think you could take Gaston in a physical fight. And… I don't even know quite why you did it."

"Because you're my friend," Adam insisted. "Because I care about you and I couldn't listen to that brute say those awful things about you."

Belle looked down at Adam's hand in hers, "I didn't know you felt like that."

"I know I've been rude in the past," Adam said. "But… I just didn't understand why you were being so nice to me. It was a stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry."

"I think you've more than made up for it," Belle assured him. "Do you think you can sit up?"

Adam nodded, and Belle helped him sit up with his back against the wall that the cot was pushed up to. She went to the sink and poured some cold water into a small, disposable cup and brought it back for Adam. He took small sips from it and looked around for a clock.

"How long was I out for?"

"It's third block," Belle said. "I think you should go home, or to the hospital—I mean, what if you have a concussion?—but the nurse insisted you'd be fine and that you should go back to class when you woke up."

"Well, I'm up now," Adam said.

"Yes, but as long as the nurse doesn't know that, we can stay," Belle smiled.

As if on cue, the nurse stepped out of her closet-like office just then.

"I see Mr. Bête is conscious," the nurse, Mrs. Dear, said. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Adam said—he was feeling pretty far from okay physically, but the fact that he was at an emotional high point made that not seem to matter so much.

"Alright then," Mrs. Dear said. "I think the two of you should probably head back to your classes, then. I'll write you both passes."

She wrote them little slips of paper to bring to their teachers, and Belle handed Adam his detention slip. He figured detention wouldn't seem so bad if Belle was there with him.

* * *

The song Adam had started to write was coming along nicely now. He had been scribbling lyrics down during the classes he did wind up being able to attend and most of the lyrics were pretty well fleshed out. He would never be able to show them to Belle, of course, but it was nice to be able to express what he was feeling through song. He was playing the song with the newly written lyrics when the door opened and Snow White stepped quietly in. He hesitated.

"No, no, please continue," Snow insisted.

Adam hesitated for a moment, and then continued singing a bit more quietly, though he felt awkward doing so with another person in the room. When he finished the song, he put the guitar down and waited for Snow to speak first.

"It's a lovely song," Snow said with a sweet smile. "Is it for Belle?"

"How did y—"

"I heard about what happened this morning," Snow said, looking down at her hands and smiling—although something about the smile looked almost sad. "It was very brave of you to stand up to Gaston like you did. I don't think anyone who's not on the football team has ever done that."

"It… it was nothing," Adam said, feeling embarrassed by the attention.

"No, it wasn't nothing," Snow said, and she came over and sat next to Adam, taking his hands in a friendly, almost nurturing manner. "If everyone started to stand up to Gaston like you did… Well, there wouldn't _be _a Gaston anymore. He would be nothing without his petty insults, and his rudeness, and the way he… objectifies women. What he does is wrong, Adam, and what you did was right. And I'm sure Belle sees it."

"What… I don't know what you mean," Adam said.

"I can tell how you feel about her," Snow said. "The song is very beautiful. I think you should sing it to her—I'm sure she'd like it."

"I… don't think so," Adam said. "Belle is perfect, and I'm… hideous. I'm lucky she even looks at me."

"You're not hideous," Snow said. "I don't know you, but you're clearly a wonderful person. I'm sure Belle sees that."

"Well… thank you," Adam said, although he wasn't sure he believed what she said.

"Of course," Snow said with a nod as she stood up. "Will you be at the dance this Saturday?"

"No," Adam said. "It's not really my thing."

"Too bad," Snow said—she looked like she was about to say something else for a moment, then she just smiled. "I'll see you around."

"Sure," Adam nodded, turning back to his guitar. "Whatever."


	19. Snow, October 1

**XIX.** Snow, October 1

* * *

Snow White stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, fixing her hair and putting on her signature red lipstick. It was Friday night and, like every Friday night, she was going to stay with her boyfriend at his apartment on the college campus the next town over. But this wasn't like any other Friday night. Tomorrow night was the homecoming dance, the night that Snow had dreaded every year since the night was ruined her freshman year. As one of the so-called "popular" girls, Snow was expected to show up to the dance every year, and she did. She showed up and she put on a pretty dress and a smile, and she pretended everything was okay. And nobody was any the wiser.

She wished she could just erase the night from her memory—forget it had ever happened. But, of course, she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried. In fact, the harder she tried, the deeper it was ingrained in her memory. She squeezed her eyes shut now, trying to stop herself from thinking about it. She took a tissue from her nightstand and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

"You'll be okay," she told her reflection.

She picked up her overnight bag and headed down to her car. She threw the bag onto the passenger seat and drove off towards campus. The college Prince was attending was Les Clark University. LCU was a good school with reasonable tuition, and a lot of WDHS alumni wound up going there due to its being so close to home. It was basically the only thing of importance in Buena Vista, the town it was situated in, so it definitely had a "college town" feel. Snow White liked the campus, which included a beautiful park and a variety of cute little shops and restaurants. She figured she would probably wind up going there, since it was close to home, a good school, and Prince was there. She couldn't really think of anywhere else she might go, anyway.

She pulled up outside the apartment building and Prince was waiting there for her on the curb. He opened the passenger side door and took Snow's bag, and as she walked around to greet him, gave her a kiss. She hugged him, then followed him into the building, chatting as they headed up the stairs.

"I was thinking we could go to dinner tonight—I hope you don't mind," Prince said, turning to look down the stairs at Snow.

"Of course," Snow smiled up at him. "That sounds wonderful."

"It's sort of a double date, actually," Prince said, opening the door and letting Snow into the apartment. "Do you remember Kuzco?"

"I think we met a couple times," Snow said, thinking. "He graduated with you, right?"

"Rich kid—Peruvian—kind of self-centered, but not necessarily a bad guy," Prince said, trying to remind her. "Always dressed in really bright colors."

"Oh yes," Snow said, nodding as she remembered. "Kind of flamboyant, but not necessarily gay?"

"That's the one," Prince nodded. "He's got a date with a girl, so apparently he's not gay."

"Anyone we know?" Snow asked curiously as she took her bag from Prince and carried it into the bedroom to set it down on the bed.

"I didn't recognize the name," Prince said as Snow walked back out into the living area. "Can't remember it now, either."

"Well, it's always nice to meet new people," Snow said. "Do they both go to LCU?"

"Yeah."

"Great," Snow smiled, stepping close to Prince in order to wrap her arms around him. "So when I come to school here I'll already know a few people."

Prince put his hands on Snow's shoulders and held her away from him for a moment to look her in the eye, "You want to go to LCU?"

"Sure," Snow said, cocking her head to the side. "I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be than here with you."

Prince pulled Snow towards him and embraced her in a warm hug.

His real name wasn't Prince, of course—it was just a nickname. But it was a nickname he had had forever, and it had stuck. His real name was Frederick Prinz, but no one ever called him Frederick, or even Freddie—not even Snow or his mother. Prince, of course, was derived from his last name, Prinz. And it suited him. If Snow had never met him, she would've thought he was too good to be true. Of course he had his flaws, as everyone does, but it was very easy to forget that he wasn't perfect.

"Do you need to get ready at all?" Prince asked.

"No, I think I can just wear this," Snow said, referring to her dark wash jeans and simple yellow tee. "We're not going anywhere fancy, are we?"

"No, we figured we'd all just go for pizza," Prince said.

"Works for me," Snow said.

Prince took his cell phone out of his pocket and took a look at what Snow could only guess was a message from Kuzco on the screen.

"Well, looks like Kuzco's already ready. His apartment's just down the street," Prince said.

"Should we walk down and meet up with him?" Snow asked.

"I don't see why not," Prince said.

The two headed out of the building holding hands and Prince led the way towards Kuzco's place. It was a nice day, and Snow tried her best to appreciate the warm, slightly humid air on her skin and the blue sky. After all, the cold weather would be coming soon and then she'd be wishing she had spent more time appreciating the summer. Winter always seemed like the longest season. Of course, Snow appreciated the winter for its beauty, but she was not actually all that fond of her namesake. She liked the way it looked from the window when she was curled up by the fire. She sometimes appreciated the fun of making a snowman or a snow angel. But she really hated cold and windy days where the tiny particles of frozen water whipped through the air and scraped her face. She shook her head at herself—she was supposed to be _appreciating _the warm weather, not thinking about the things that were worse than it. She leaned her head against Prince's shoulder for just a moment, glad to be here with him.

"Prince!" Kuzco said when he opened his apartment door with a flourish. "Great to see you—come in—this must be Snow."

"Yes," she said, nodding, a bit intimidated by Kuzco and his big personality.

"Let me look at you," Kuzco said, holding Snow in front of himself for a minute. "Ah! Yes—I do remember you. You're pretty popular, huh?"

"Well…" Snow looked at the ceiling and shrugged a bit.

"No need to be modest here," Kuzco said, heading over to the kitchenette. "Something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Prince said.

"I'll just have an ice water, if you don't mind," Snow said.

"Coming right up," Kuzco said, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

"So what time are we meeting—sorry, what's your date's name again?" Prince asked.

"Kida," Kuzco said, looking at his watch. "I told her I'd pick her up at her dorm about—a half an hour from now."

"Well, the dorms are only a five minute drive from here so we should be fine," Prince said. "I can drive, if you'd like."

"Sounds good," Kuzco said, handing Snow the frosty glass of water as she thanked him.

The three sat on Kuzco's couch and chatted for a couple of minutes as Snow sipped on her water. After talking for about fifteen minutes, they headed out and down the street to Prince's car. Prince got in the driver's seat and Kuzco jumped in the shotgun position. Snow saw that Prince was about to say something to Kuzco, but she gestured to him not to bother and got into the backseat of the car. It was a bit rude of Kuzco, yes, but Snow was beginning to remember that he wasn't much of one for social graces. That was fine—she wasn't needy.

When they pulled up to Kida's dorm, Kuzco called her and she came right out. Snow was surprised at her appearance. She was striking—completely exotic looking, and completely beautiful. Her hair appeared to be white—at first Snow thought it might be an extremely light blonde, but as the girl drew closer to the car it seemed to be pure white. In contrast, she had tanned skin and she wore light blue eye shadow that was the same color as her eyes. She slipped into the back seat next to Snow.

"Hi," she said. "Kidagakash Nedakh."

"Kidaga—" Prince began.

"Call me Kida," she said, then smiled at Kuzco, who had turned his head to look back at her. "Hi."

"I'm Snow White," Snow said. "And that's my boyfriend, Prince, driving."

"Prince?"

"It's a nickname," Snow said, hoping to cut off any jokes about purple rain or little red corvettes. "His last name is Prinz."

"Ah," Kida said, nodding. "It's nice to meet you both."

"It's nice to meet you," Snow said. "I'm thinking about going to LCU, so the more people I know the better."

"Still in high school?" Kida asked.

"Senior year," Snow replied.

"Which school?" Kida looked at her curiously.

"Walt Disney," Snow said. "It's where all three of us went."

"Oh," Kida nodded. "I always wanted to go there, your building looked so cool! I went to Marceline High School, though."

Marceline High School was the other of the two high schools in Snow's hometown, the original public school that had become overpopulated. Snow often forgot about its existence, if she was being honest, as the interaction between the two schools was surprisingly limited. Snow wondered for a moment how different her life might be if she had wound up going to Marceline rather than Walt Disney—who would she be friends with? Would she still be popular? Would she have a boyfriend? The one thing she couldn't help from cropping up in her mind was that what had happened at homecoming her freshman year would never have happened. But would she trade everything—her friends, her boyfriend, the memories—for that? She considered it for a moment and then thought, _No_. If it hadn't been her, it would've been someone else. And the good things that had happened to her at Walt Disney High School far outweighed the bad.

"Snow… you okay?"

"Fine," Snow smiled at Kida, mentally scolding herself for letting her mind wander into _that _direction. "Sorry, just kind of… spaced out there."

Prince pulled the car into the lot of the local pizza joint, Tony's. The four piled out of the car and piled into a booth by the window. Prince went to the counter and ordered them a half-cheese, half-Hawaiian pizza, then came back to the booth to slide in next to Snow.

"So tell me about Walt Disney High School," Kida said. "I've always wondered what it's like."

"Well, first off… the teachers are crazy," Kuzco said, sing-songing the last word.

"How so?" Kida asked.

"Literally, in some cases," Prince said.

"A lot of them are just really mean," Snow said. "Well, we call them 'evil.' But beyond normal teacher strictness—just unnecessary rudeness. They do know their subjects, though. And you wind up learning a lot. There are some good ones, too, though."

"Oh, the teachers at Marceline were pretty average," Kida said. "And the education was pretty average too. I'm really loving being in college—learning so much."

"As far as I'm concerned, it's all about the party," Kuzco said, leaning back on the bench and coolly sliding an arm behind Kida.

Snow raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. The four discussed different aspects of the two differing high schools until the pizza was ready, and then Kida and Kuzco munched on the Hawaiian side while Snow and Prince stuck to the more traditional cheese. It was pretty clear to Snow that Kida and Kuzco were not a very well-made match. She thought she could probably find a guy more suited to Kida pretty easily—she wasn't so sure about finding a date for Kuzco, though. She decided maybe she should save her matchmaking services for those younger than her, though. She probably knew more about love than anyone else at WDHS, but she didn't know much about college—and she got the impression most people in college weren't exactly looking for love. Anyway, it was only Kida and Kuzco's second date, and from the impression Kida was giving, there wouldn't be a third.

The date was a bit awkward at times, and Snow was honestly glad when it was over. She was happy to have met Kida, though, and the two exchanged phone numbers before Kida got out at her dorm. Snow and Prince dropped Kuzco off at a party at a frat house at his request, then headed back to Prince's place.

When they got inside, the two cuddled up on the couch under a blanket and turned on the television. Some mindlessly dramatic TV movie was on, so they left it on that. Snow put her head down on Prince's lap and he rested his hand on her back gently. She was tired from the school day and dinner and she could feel herself drifting off, as the movie required very little concentration…

* * *

"Snow! Snow, it's okay, wake up."

She opened her eyes and found herself on the couch. Despite the clear safety of her current situation, she felt fearful and she couldn't remember why. She blinked blearily. She must have been having a nightmare, based on the panicky feeling and the urgency in Prince's voice as he shook her awake. The television was still on and Prince was still there. Prince sat her up and spoke in a soothing voice, trying to calm her down.

"It's okay, it was just a dream," he reassured her. "I'm here—I won't let anything happen to you, you know that."

"I know, I know," Snow said, beginning to feel the panicked feeling subsiding.

"Was it…"

"I don't know," Snow said. "I don't remember. Probably."

"Come here," Prince said, and Snow rested her head on his shoulder as he held her close. He turned off the TV. "I wish you would tell me who did this to you so I could do something about it."

"What would you do?" Snow asked, wrapping her arms around Prince's neck and swinging her legs over his lap.

"Probably something illegal," Prince admitted. "But I'd at least give him a piece of my mind."

"No offense, but I think he would probably beat you up," Snow said.

"Well, that narrows it down to—just about every guy in your year," Prince said. "Seriously, we could at least bring legal action against the guy—get him thrown in jail or something, before the statute of limitations runs out."

"But there's no evidence," Snow said. "No… I'm happy now—usually. I can almost always not think about the fact that it happened. If I had to go to court, testify against him… I don't think I could handle it."

"I would be there for you," Prince said. "I would help you get through it."

"I know you would," Snow said, reaching up and touching his face. "But I can't do it. I just can't."

"Well, I won't pressure you," Prince said with a sigh. "But if you ever decide to do something about it… I'll be there."

"I know," Snow said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Prince said, and gave Snow a kiss.

It was true when Snow said that she was happy now. She genuinely was happy with her life and almost everything in it. It was just occasionally that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep. It was only occasionally—on nights like tonight would inevitably be—that she would stay up late crying, not thinking specifically about the details but just about the fact that it had happened. Thinking about the fact that three years ago she had her innocence stolen from her at a dance. Snow was not a hateful person by any measure. But if she hated anyone, it was him—the boy who had taken her virginity on no one's authority but his own. The only time she had ever wished harm on anyone is when she wished, on each sleepless night, that somehow someone could make _him_ feel the kind of complete violation and crushing humiliation that she had felt since then. And Snow realized, for the first time in her life: she wanted revenge.


	20. Homecoming, October 2

**XX.** Homecoming, October 2

* * *

Ella looked in the mirror proudly. She had to admit that she was impressed with her own ability to dress herself nicely on a budget. She had made the pink dress she was wearing with a soft cotton fabric she had bought at the local craft store and sewing machines from the clothing construction classroom in the school basement. The dress was a simple maxi dress with a bow at the front, but Ella thought it looked quite elegant, especially considering the material's relatively cheap nature. She smiled, checking her makeup and making sure the intricate bun she had put her hair into was still in place and that no hairs had come loose. She looked at the clock. Charm would be here soon. Charm—her date for homecoming. She could still hardly believe that it was true.

She headed downstairs to wait for Charm. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, however, Drizella and Anastasia were waiting for her. Both of them had sour looks on their faces, but then again, they always looked like that. They looked a strange mixture of jealous and smug. Both were wearing their own homecoming dresses, though as far as Ella knew neither of them had dates. Drizella had on a lime green dress and Anastasia wore magenta. Both dresses were made of shiny, somewhat gaudy looking fabric, but Ella didn't doubt they were both expensive dresses. Anastasia was sipping coffee from a mug as Drizella stepped forward to confront Ella.

"Where do you think _you're _going?" Drizella sneered.

"I'm going to the homecoming dance, just like you," Ella said. "My _date _will be here soon to pick me up."

"You can't go to the dance without a dress," Drizella said.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" Ella asked, pretty sure her step-sister had gone off the deep end. "I have a d—"

Before she could even finish the sentence, Drizella had grabbed Anastasia's mug of coffee and tossed the steaming hot beverage onto the front of Ella's dress. Ella screamed involuntarily as the searing liquid hit the fabric and soaked through to the skin.

"Drizella!" she shouted, hardly believing her step-sister could be quite so cruel and vicious.

As though the giant brown stain that was expanding across the front of the dress wasn't enough, Drizella reached forward and forcefully ripped the bow off the front of the dress, leaving an unattractive, lopsided hole right below Ella's chest. Ella could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes, but didn't want to give Drizella the satisfaction of seeing her pain. She turned to run back up the stairs, and as she did, Drizella reached up and pulled at Ella's hair, releasing the bun so that her blonde locks fell down messily. Ella hurried up the stairs to the sound of her step-sisters cackling. She was about to go back into her room and lock the door when she heard the doorbell ring. Quietly, she crept as close as she could to the top of the stairs without being seen. She heard the door open.

"Hello, is Ella here?" she heard Charm ask in his amiable voice.

"She decided she's not going to the dance," Drizella said with a laugh.

"But you can take me if you'd like," Anastasia interrupted, clearly trying to make her voice sound sensual and just sounding ridiculous.

"Don't be ridiculous, Anastasia," Drizella said. "You're far too young, Charm is clearly looking for a mature lady like myself. Aren't you, Charm?"

"Um… sorry, ladies, but Ella was the only girl I really wanted to take to the dance," Charm said, and Ella felt as though her heart might melt or burst or just stop working altogether. "Can I at least talk to her?"

"No," Drizella said bluntly.

"She's not here," Anastasia filled in.

"Oh?" Charm said. "That's… strange."

Ella wished she could tell him that she _did _want to go. That she wasn't standing him up—she didn't choose this. But he couldn't see her right now. Not like this.

"Well… goodnight, ladies," Charm said.

"See you later," Drizella said suggestively.

Ella heard the door close and she hurried to her room and closed the door. She looked out the window and saw Charm walking slowly away from the front door, head down, looking worried. He began to look up and Ella hid so he wouldn't see her in the window. She walked slowly to the bed, pulling her bun all the way out so it wasn't just hanging there, limp and sad. This was supposed to have been the best night ever, and now it had become the biggest disappointment of all time.

* * *

Aladdin pulled into the school parking lot as the sky was turning a darker shade of blue. He walked around to the passenger side and helped Alice out. She looked so grown up tonight. She had pulled her blonde hair back into a simple up-do involving a couple of tiny braids woven into a twisted bun. She was wearing a cornflower blue semi-formal dress. The neckline was conservative enough to satisfy Aladdin's brotherly, protective feelings for Alice and the skirt was short enough to be fun and somewhat casual. At the waist, there was a tiny geometric bow made of fabric.

The pair walked arm-in-arm towards the entrance to the gym. They had grown very close in the few weeks since they'd met. Aladdin, an only child as far as he was aware, felt like he finally knew what it was like to have a little sister—or any kind of sibling. He felt emotionally invested in Alice's happiness. He wanted her to have fun, be safe, and get good grades. And he had a lot of respect for the kid. She was one of the only people who was upfront with him, and he appreciated that—especially now. She would tell him when he was being stupid or unreasonable, but she was supportive when he was rightfully feeling down. He could sense that their friendship was one that was going to last.

Although she hated to admit it even to herself, Alice had a little crush. She would never tell a soul—didn't even have the courage to write it in a diary—but it was true. She figured—hoped—it would go away after a little while. It was a harmless crush, and she knew it. For the most part, Aladdin was her friend and nothing else. That was how she was able to be so brutally honest with him, and how she felt so comfortable around him practically immediately. But every once in a while he would say or do something and she would feel a small pang of attraction. She figured no one could ever blame her, though, as it was an undisputed fact that Aladdin was one of the most attractive guys in the school.

"You ready for this?" Aladdin smiled down at Alice, squeezing her arm as they approached the door.

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

They gave the chaperones at the doors their tickets, showed their IDs, and stepped into the loud, crowded gymnasium. There was a DJ at one end and the crowd was most condensed near the speakers. The overhead lights were all turned off, but there were disco balls and strobe lights placed throughout the gym. The DJ was spinning indistinguishable house music as they walked in, and those closest to him were jumping up and down to the beat. At the other end of the gym was the refreshments table.

"I'm thirsty," Alice said when she saw it.

"Let's go get something then," Aladdin said, and they headed towards the table.

He couldn't help but notice that people were staring at them. A multitude of eyes were following the pair as they walked from the entrance back to the refreshments table. He wondered if Alice was aware of all the attention they were drawing, or if she was as oblivious as usual to the social happenings all around her. He was pretty sure he could guess why they were staring—maybe for a number of reasons. He wished they would stop, though. It was none of their business. But, come to think of it… he should have seen this coming.

* * *

Rapunzel was doing her very best to have a good time at the dance. It was _homecoming_, after all, the major dance event of the year for underclassmen. She tried to focus on the music, but there wasn't much substance there. She had to find _something _to focus on or else her thoughts would just drift back to her mother and… well, she couldn't have that.

She looked to her two friends to distract her—Mulan and Wendy Darling. Rapunzel and Mulan had been friends for a while, but the two had only recently become friends with Wendy through their mutual friend Peter. Peter and Wendy were best friends, although Rapunzel suspected Wendy liked Peter in a way that was more than just friendly. That was part of why Rapunzel had invited Wendy to come along with them—Peter would, of course, be going with his girlfriend, Tiger Lily, and Rapunzel didn't want Wendy to feel left out. Besides, Rapunzel really liked Wendy so far, and if she could she wanted to help Wendy to maybe get over Peter. If such a thing was possible.

Unfortunately, Rapunzel found, as she looked at Wendy, she already looked disappointed. If Rapunzel couldn't enjoy the night, she wanted to at least help Wendy to do it. She followed Wendy's gaze out to the crowd and saw Peter and Tiger dancing together at the edge of the crowd. Just as she was watching, the DJ slowed the music down and Peter put his arms around Tiger's waist and pulled her close. Rapunzel searched the crowd for some kind of distraction. Her eyes rested on Phillip Rêveur, Wendy's French peer tutor. He was standing by the refreshments table, sipping from a cup and looking bored—and hot.

"Hey Wendy," Rapunzel said.

"Hm?" Wendy said, seemingly coming out of a Peter-induced daze.

"How about that Phillip, huh?"

"What—Phillip?" Wendy asked, confused. "Phillip Rêveur?"

"Yeah, he's your tutor, right?" Rapunzel asked.

"Sure—what about him?" Wendy asked.

"He's pretty cute, isn't he?" Rapunzel pointed over to where he was standing.

"Uh, yeah—yeah, I guess he is," Wendy said, looking across the gymnasium as though she was seeing Phillip and for the first time realizing that he was an attractive man. "What's your point?"

"Dance with him!" Rapunzel said enthusiastically. "He looks so bored—and you seem kind of bored—and you guys would totally make a cute pair."

"No way, Rapunzel," Wendy said, giving her a you-can't-be-serious look. "He's way out of my league anyway."

"Are you joking?" Rapunzel said. "You're gorgeous—no one in this room is out of your league. Seriously. Go do it. You won't regret it. If you don't ask him—I'll ask him _for_ you."

"Oh—fine," Wendy said. "But just one dance."

"That's all I ask," Rapunzel smiled and watched Wendy walk off towards Phillip.

She watched Phillip look up as Wendy approached. He stood up straight as she came closer and he looked pretty excited when she began talking to him, and then they walked closer to the crowd and started slow dancing. They weren't dancing too closely, but Rapunzel sensed that there was some chemistry and she was proud of the match she had made. She turned to Mulan.

"What's your bet?" Rapunzel asked.

"I don't think they'll let each other go the whole night," Mulan said.

"I wouldn't bet against that," Rapunzel smiled.

* * *

Ariel and Tiana had to practically drag Belle to the dance, but there she was. The three arrived as a group, looking like they had coordinated outfits, all wearing different shades of blue semi-formal dresses of approximately the same length, although all of different cuts. Ariel's was asymmetrical and off-the-shoulder, Tia's was rather well-fitting with the neckline cutting straight across, and Belle's was loose and flowing with a lower neckline than she would usually feel comfortable with—borrowed from Ariel's closet at the last minute.

Ariel had actually called Belle earlier that day to see when she was going to be at the dance and had essentially freaked out when Belle said she wouldn't be attending. She and Tia had showed up at Belle's house soon afterwards with a dress, makeup kit and hair tools for a quick mini-makeover. Belle was grateful for her friends. Though she hadn't planned to come to the dance and would probably have preferred staying home cuddled up with a book as she'd planned, it could be some fun. And she liked Ariel and Tia, so she imagined it could turn out to be a good time.

"Oh, just ignore them, Ariel," Belle heard Tia say.

"What is it?" Belle asked.

"Eric and Vanessa," Tia said.

"Oh," Belle said, following Tia and Ariel's gaze to see the couple dancing together.

Belle was well aware from their lunchtime conversations of the Eric-and-Vanessa situation. Vanessa was a senior who helped out in Ariel and Tia's biology class, and Eric was Ariel's big crush. Belle had been hearing the saga of Vanessa-and-Eric over the lunch table, about how Vanessa was constantly flirting with Eric in what Ariel described as "a completely unprofessional way." Last Belle had heard, the two weren't officially an item, but apparently they were now, or pretty close to it.

"There's Lottie and Naveen," Belle said. "You going to go say hi?"

The three girls looked over at the newly arrived couple. Lottie had a hand on Naveen's chest possessively, and she was leaning towards him as much as was probably possible while still maintaining a forward momentum. Naveen looked slightly uncomfortable with the way Lottie was leaning on him, but he still flashed his charismatic, characteristic smile at everyone he passed by anyway.

"Eh, I don't think so," Tia said. "I think Lottie's got a bit of a one-track mind right now. Maybe we'll catch up later."

"If she ever lets go of him," Ariel said, laughing.

* * *

Pocahontas and John arrived at the dance together, to no one's surprise but Pocahontas's own. The two had agreed that it would be a platonic date—that they'd be going as friends, and only friends. Neither of them expressed any problem with this arrangement. Pocahontas saw that Kocoum and Nakoma had also arrived together as the couple that they were. Of course she knew that they were a couple, but for some reason seeing them at the dance together, with Nakoma in a gorgeous tan pleated dress, hurt in a new way. But Nakoma and Pocahontas were best friends, and the only normal thing for the two couples to do would be to greet each other.

"Hey, Pocahontas," Nakoma said something first as she and Kocoum came face-to-face with Pocahontas and John.

"Nakoma," Pocahontas forced a smile.

"You two, then, huh?" Nakoma gestured at Pocahontas and John.

"Oh, no, we're just here as friends," Pocahontas said.

"Ah, sure," Nakoma said with a wink.

"Really," Pocahontas insisted.

"Hey—Kocoum—I'm sorry about Thomas, if he's been a pain," John said. "He's just an immature kid and… he has the wrong ideas about how to solve problems. No hard feelings, yeah?"

"Of course," Kocoum nodded to John. "I only see Thomas's… heckling… as a reflection of his own undeveloped social abilities."

"Great," John said, reaching across and giving Kocoum a firm handshake. "And, uh… I'll try to talk to him about not being such an ass."

Despite the conversation going on between Kocoum and John, Pocahontas couldn't keep her eyes off of Nakoma. Luckily Nakoma seemed captivated by Kocoum and didn't notice. Nakoma always looked beautiful, but Pocahontas thought she looked especially so tonight. Maybe it was because Pocahontas hadn't seen her as often lately as they usually saw each other, since Nakoma and Kocoum had been spending a lot of time together. Pocahontas didn't like to think about the fact that Nakoma was spending so much time with Kocoum. She missed her best friend, but she also wished something more could come of their friendship, and Kocoum was a major roadblock in those efforts. She tried to focus on something besides Nakoma, but her eyes kept drifting back.

* * *

Ella was alone in the house now. Drizella and Anastasia had left to go to the dance and Mrs. Tremaine was off doing whatever it was she did on Saturday nights—Ella couldn't care less, she was usually just glad to have the house to herself. But tonight she shouldn't be here at all—she should be at the dance with Charm having the time of her life. And if not for her horrible step-siblings, she would be. She was in her pajamas now, having stuffed the dress in the trash angrily. Maybe she could have fixed it, but it didn't seem worth it since she didn't have anywhere else to wear it to. She stood in the kitchen cooking macaroni for herself—comfort food was exactly what she needed at this moment.

Tap, tap, tap.

Ella jumped, looking around, trying to find the source of the loud tapping noise. This was no ordinary creaking of an old house. No, this was something new. She heard it again, looked up, and saw where it was coming from. There, on the other side of the window pane, was Charm, tapping his finger against the glass. Ella hurried over to the window and pushed up the frame. There was no screen in this particular window.

There Charm stood, standing just outside the window. He looked perfectly charming—quite suited to the name. Not a single black hair on his head was out of place, and the cream jacket he wore was without a visible wrinkle or speck of dirt. He looked very handsome and perfectly dapper, and Ella immediately felt even sorrier than she already did that she wouldn't be able to accompany him to the dance. Seeing him now, framed by the windowsill, she thought he was perhaps even more perfect than she had previously imagined.

"What are you doing?" Ella whispered, even though there was no one in the house to hear at this point.

"I thought your sisters—"

"Step-sisters," Ella corrected, then felt a little bit foolish.

"Step-sisters," Charm affirmed. "I thought they were acting a bit suspicious… So I decided to go park around the corner and come back after they'd gone. I just wanted to ask you why you stood me up."

"You know I would never—"

"I know," Charm said, and Ella found that his dark, chocolaty eyes were staring directly into her own light blue ones. "I didn't really think you'd stood me up—not on purpose, anyway. You were far too excited about this dance to do that. So what happened?"

Ella looked down, "Drizella ruined my dress."

"On purpose?" Charm asked. "What am I saying—of course on purpose."

"You've met her, huh?" Ella asked rhetorically. "It was the only dress I had that was formal enough to wear to homecoming—I actually made it just for tonight. But…"

"You made your own dress?"

Ella nodded.

"Impressive," Charm said. "You know, I don't really mind that you can't go to the dance—don't look like that, I'm not going to go without you."

"Why not?" Ella asked, surprised. "You're all dressed up for it."

"Dances aren't really my thing anyway," Charm admitted. "I just wanted to spend time with you—and this is kind of better, because we can talk and it's just us."

"You mean that?" Ella said.

"I don't know, do I?" Charm asked with a smile, then leaned through the window and surprised Ella with a kiss.

* * *

"Hey, Aurora!" Phillip spotted her over by the refreshments table grabbing a snack.

"Oh… Phillip… hi," she said, feeling surprisingly shy.

The two had spoken a couple of times since Snow's ill-fated attempt to set them up, and they had gotten along pretty well. Aurora could see the two of them being good friends. And she wouldn't be against the prospect of a dance or two with him—dances didn't have to mean anything.

"You look nice," Phillip said, pouring two cups of fruit punch.

"Thanks," Aurora said. "Who's the other cup for?"

"Oh—Wendy," Phillip said, gesturing towards the girl standing over by the wall waiting for him. "I tutor her in French—she's a really smart girl. Really nice, too. She asked me to dance and we just kind of hit it off. I wasn't expecting much from this dance, but it's actually been really fun so far."

"For me, too," Aurora lied, smiling.

"Glad to hear it," Phillip said. "I'll see you later Aurora, yeah?"

"Of course," Aurora said as he headed back off towards Wendy.

She couldn't help watching as Phillip handed Wendy one of the cups of fruit punch. The two were now having some intense conversation about who-knows-what. Wendy was watching Phillip intently, seeming very interested in what he had to say. Aurora knew what she was feeling was something akin to jealousy, and she did not appreciate it. She was not supposed to be jealous because she was not supposed to be interested. She pushed the feelings to the side and tried to remember why she'd even come to this dance in the first place.

* * *

"Meg."

Megara turned towards the voice and found Hercules standing behind her. She gave him the once-over, cocking an eyebrow in question and crossing her arms over her chest.

"What's up, Wonder Boy?" Meg asked, looking bored and inspecting her nails.

"Wonder Boy?" he questioned.

"It's my new nickname for you—just came up with it," Meg said. "Because it's such a wonder how you seem to _always _be following me around, hm?"

"I—um—well, anyway, _Meg_," Hercules said. "I wanted to see if… maybe you'd like to dance with me?"

Meg scoffed, "Why would I want to dance with you?"

"Well, I… kind of did get mixed messages but…" Hercules looked confused. "I got the impression there was _some _kind of chemistry between us… In fact, I know there was, because…"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Meg asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"We kissed, Meg," Hercules said, leaning forward and speaking in somewhat hushed tones. "You can act as weird as you'd like towards me, but I _know _what happened between us—and we both know it was real."

Meg appeared unfazed. "You _must _be drunk, Wonder Boy. Have fun with that. I should warn you, though, it's against school policy."

She tossed her ponytail in the air as she turned and walked off in search of someone more worthy of her time.

* * *

Rapunzel sat on the bleachers admiring her handiwork. Phillip and Wendy had been dancing for quite a few songs now—enough that Rapunzel had stopped bothering to count. They seemed to be getting along really well, and better than just your average tutor-and-tutee. Someone had dragged Mulan off to socialize, so it was just Rapunzel by herself now. Alone. With her thoughts. She tried to concentrate on all the weird little couples that were formulating on the dance floor, but it wasn't quite enough. Then she saw that Flynn guy—and he was coming towards her. She rolled her eyes, thinking about if it might be worth it to get up and run in the opposite direction.

"Why so serious?" Flynn asked, taking a seat next to Rapunzel.

"I seriously doubt you'd be interested," Rapunzel said.

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't interested," Flynn said, giving Rapunzel a genuine look, complete with wide eyes of curiosity and attention.

"It's just that my mom's… sick. That's all," Rapunzel said. "Okay?"

"Oh, I thought maybe you were sad because you didn't have a date," Flynn said. "Which… was a problem I could have solved. Unfortunately I… can't solve that one for you."

"No one can," Rapunzel said. "Except… doctors, maybe, I guess."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Flynn asked.

"Yes," Rapunzel admitted, then took a long look at Flynn. "But not to 'Flynn Rider.'"

She drew air quotes around the name.

"Who to, then?" Flynn asked.

"You, maybe," Rapunzel said. "But not _this _you. The real you. Whoever that is. I want to know who you really are."

Flynn looked at his hands very seriously, "I don't know what you mean."

"Maybe you should figure that out before you do anything else, then," Rapunzel said, and left him there at the bleachers with his thoughts.

* * *

"Hey, Tia… can I talk to you for a minute?" Naveen asked as he approached Tia, Ariel, and Belle.

"Sure, Naveen, but if it's about doing your culinary homework, you can just forget it," Tia said.

"It's… not about that," Naveen said. "Can we go somewhere a bit more… quiet?"

"Alright," Tia said.

She followed Naveen to the side of the gym furthest from the DJ. There was a door that led outside that one of the chaperones had propped open with a fold-out chair to let some air into the stuffy gymnasium. Naveen and Tia stepped outside into the cool air.

"Where's Lottie?" Tia asked.

"She went to the bathroom to reapply her makeup," Naveen said. "I'm sure you know how long that takes. Um… about culinary…"

"You really pulled me outside just to talk about class?" Tia asked. "I thought you had something serious going on. Here I was, thinking… I don't know what, but I figured—"

Naveen stopped her, leaning in and kissing her suddenly and passionately. Tia pulled away, looking at Naveen with eyes wide and mouth open in disbelief.

"Naveen!" she shouted. "Wha—what are you—"

"I'm only dating Lottie because… I thought it would let me get to know you better," Naveen said.

"Naveen, that's… that's horrible," Tia said angrily. "Lottie is my best friend in the world, and if you… You could seriously hurt her, Naveen."

"But Tia," Naveen insisted. "You wouldn't even give me the time of day—I thought that if… if I found some other way to get to know you, you might give me a chance…"

"You thought that if you started dating my best friend, I might start to see you as some romantic ideal?" Tia asked, putting her hands on her hips and staring Naveen down.

"You're right—it was stupid," Naveen said.

"Not only stupid, but completely insensitive," Tia said.

"Yes," Naveen agreed.

"Whatever you do Naveen—do _not _break that girl's heart. Understand me?" Tia asked sternly, and Naveen nodded meekly. "Do. Not."

She stormed off back into the gymnasium and found Ariel.

"Whoa, what happened?" Ariel asked when she saw Tia's angered stance and expression.

"Nothing," Tia said, forcing herself to calm down. "He just… wanted me to do his culinary homework. Where's Belle?"

* * *

Gaston pinned Belle against the wall. The noise from the gym was deafening, and Gaston had dragged his intended victim far enough from the activity that no one could hear her shouting and struggling. He had grabbed her when she was headed towards the bathroom—he'd come out of nowhere as far as she could tell. He was no amateur. He had done this before. That much was clear to Belle. But the hopelessness of her situation didn't keep her from kicking and screaming, fighting with all the strength she had in her body.

"Oh, hush, there's no point in any of that, Belle," Gaston said, grinning and looking even more beast-like than usual.

"I am not going to make this easy for you," Belle said through gritted teeth. "You are a sick human being."

She spat in his face and he was taken aback for a moment. As he was wiping the spit from his face onto his sleeve, Belle managed to pull away and dart back towards the gym.

"Oh, no you don't," Gaston said, quickly catching up to Belle and tightly gripping her arm.

She let out a little yelp when he grabbed her, and quickly resumed her kicking and writhing as he dragged her back away from the gym.

"Why are you even doing this?" Belle asked, fighting back the urge to cry. "There are plenty of girls in that gym who would be glad to have you, as vile as you may be. Why not just go home with one of them?"

"I don't want any of them," Gaston said. "I want you—and I always get what I want."

Belle tried to knee him in the crotch, but he saw it coming and pushed her leg back against the wall. She began shouting for help again, but no one seemed to be coming. They were too far away, and the music was too loud. It was hopeless.

* * *

"Nakoma."

"Pocahontas!" Nakoma jumped. "You scared me. I didn't know you were coming, too."

The two stood in the women's bathroom, where Pocahontas had followed Nakoma. Nakoma was standing in front of the mirror and Pocahontas had just walked in the door.

"Nakoma…" Pocahontas repeated, her voice cracking.

"Pocahontas… Is something wrong?" Nakoma looked concerned, put down her makeup and turned to her best friend.

"I… need to tell you something," Pocahontas said, leaning down and peeking under the stall doors to make sure there was no one else in the room. "It's a secret I've been keeping."

"Okay," Nakoma said steadily. "What is it?"

"It's…" Pocahontas took a deep breath, exhaled sharply. "I…"

Completely overwhelmed, Pocahontas began to sob uncontrollably. Nakoma's mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, and then she hurried to her friend and wrapped her arms around her comfortingly.

"Pocahontas… You know you can tell me anything," Nakoma said. "What's wrong?"

"It's… it's _you_, Nakoma," was all Pocahontas could manage between sobs.

"Wha—what did I do?" Nakoma asked, taking a step back.

"No—it's—it's nothing you did," Pocahontas said. "It's _you_. It's always _been_ you. I… I think love you."

"I love you too, Pocahontas," Nakoma said. "You know I love you."

"You know that's not what I meant," Pocahontas said, still crying but becoming more in control of her tears.

Nakoma sighed, clearly conflicted, "So are you… a lesbian? Is that what you're trying to tell me."

"Yes," Pocahontas said. "And I have feelings for you. That's why I didn't want to tell you… who I liked when you asked the other night."

"The kiss… oh my god," Nakoma murmured to herself.

"I wrote you a letter that weekend… I was going to tell you everything," Pocahontas said. "And then you told me you were seeing Kocoum, so I ripped it up."

"Pocahontas," Nakoma said gently. "You know this doesn't change our friendship… How I see you."

"But…" Pocahontas added for her.

"But nothing," Nakoma said. "I… I've actually known for a while that I'm bisexual, but I've never told anyone—you're the first person. But… I do have feelings for Kocoum and… I'm just… I'm confused, Pocahontas. You're confusing me."

"I'm… confusing you?" Pocahontas asked, not even sure what that was supposed to mean.

"This doesn't change our friendship, Pocahontas," Nakoma said, reaching out to give her friend a comforting hug.

Pocahontas put up a hand to keep Nakoma away, "Just go."

Nakoma hesitated for a moment, and then walked out of the bathroom, throwing her hands down in surrender. Pocahontas took a paper towel from the dispenser, quickly dried the tears on her face, then walked back out into the lobby. She glanced at the chaperones by the gymnasium, who gave her strange looks, then walked out the door into the night.

* * *

"You? And… and her? _Really_?"

Aladdin turned to find Jasmine. She looked… good, relatively, at least. Her hair and makeup were nice, and the red dress she had on was pretty, although a bit more revealing than he felt comfortable with. It was obvious within seconds, however, that she was drunk. Aladdin's immediate instinct was to step in front of Alice and somehow protect her from the image of Jasmine pointing at her as she staggered forward.

"She's like, _eleven_ years old," Jasmine said, close enough to Aladdin now that he could smell the alcohol on her breath.

"She's fourteen, Jasmine," Aladdin said calmly. "And I don't see how the age of my friends is any concern to you."

"That's just—that's just wrong, how could you date a fourteen-year-old?" Jasmine asked, slurring her words.

"Okay, um, first of all, Alice and I are _not dating_," Aladdin said, loud enough so that anyone nearby could hear. "She's like a sister to me—I don't see her that way at all. And you, Jasmine, of all people, are in _no _place to be making moral judgments anyway."

"We were in _love_, Aladdin," Jasmine said, leaning against him with her head against his chest. "Doesn't that mean _anything _to you?"

Aladdin was visibly uncomfortable with what Jasmine was doing, holding both his arms up but unsure of whether he should even try to pry her off of him. Finally he grabbed her firmly by the arms and peeled her off of him, then looked her in the eye as he spoke sternly to her.

"That's right, Jasmine, we _were _in love," Aladdin said. "Or at least I thought we were. I was in love with who I thought you were—and who I think you used to be, at least. I don't know what's happened to change you—I wish I knew. But the person you are now… She's not all that likeable. You _cheated _on me—do you understand that? You slept with someone else when you were supposed to be with me. Are you listening?"

"Uh-huh," Jasmine said meekly.

"Now, I don't know what's made you so different, but I do know one thing for sure—no one likes you when you're drunk," he said. "No one—they only come to your parties because there's always lots of alcohol and you have a big house. No one will tell you that because they don't want to be uninvited, but I can tell you that as a fact. If you want to get your life together, you need to clean up your act. You're being ridiculous, and this… this behavior is just… the Jasmine I started dating would never have done this. You used to have class, Jas. I don't know what's gotten into you. But this… is not prom queen material."

Jasmine stared at Aladdin with eyes wide, mouth gaping open. The many who witnessed the debacle's expressions were similar in their surprise. Aladdin turned and found that Alice was still standing behind him, now looking up at him admiringly.

"Let's go home," he said.

* * *

"You planning to walk home?"

Pocahontas looked up to find John's car pulling up next to her as she walked along the side of the road barefoot, carrying her high heels.

"I was, yeah," she said.

"It's much too far—especially barefoot," John said. "Come on, get in."

"Okay."

Pocahontas climbed into the passenger side. They sat there for a moment, pulled over, before either said anything. John was debating whether to ask or to just drive her home, when she made the decision for him.

"I told Nakoma I'm in love with her," Pocahontas said.

"What?" John sputtered, looking over to see a single tear stream down Pocahontas's streak. "You—_what_?"

"I'm a lesbian, John," Pocahontas said matter-of-factly. "I always have been, I guess. It's just taken some time to admit… But it was my feelings for Nakoma that made me fully realize it."

"I… I'm sorry, I'm just… really surprised," John said. "But… Pocahontas, if this is how you feel… Then I fully support you."

"Really?" Pocahontas asked, looking over at John and smiling for probably the first time that night.

"Of course," John said, and leaned over the console to give her a hug. "What did she say when you told her?"

"I'd… rather not discuss that," Pocahontas said.

"That bad, huh?" John asked sympathetically.

"Sorry… I guess I sort of did that to you," Pocahontas said.

"It's okay," John said. "You can't help the way you feel. And I wouldn't want you to."

"Thank you," Pocahontas said. "That means a lot. Really."

"Let's get you home."

* * *

"Snow, are you okay?" Prince asked.

She was clearly distracted by something, scanning the crowds of people. Looking for someone—someone in particular. She suddenly stopped, looked back over at a group standing to the side.

"No," she murmured, pulling away from Prince—he let her go, but followed not too far behind.

"Girls—where is Belle?" Snow asked Belle's friends, Ariel and Tiana.

Ariel and Tia exchanged a look.

"We're not sure," Ariel admitted.

"Oh my god," Snow said.

Snow kicked off her silver heels and ran out of the gymnasium. Prince followed closely behind and, after a moment's pause, Ariel and Tia headed after them. Snow ran as fast as her feet would take here down the hall and around a corner, down another corridor to a familiar corner of the school. A place she knew very well—_too _well. She reached the hallway where she knew she would find Belle and stopped in her tracks, frozen for a moment at the sight that she saw far too often in her nightmares.

"Gaston," Snow yelled.

Gaston looked up. He had only just unbuckled his belt. She wasn't too late. Gaston didn't look at all concerned until Prince rounded the corner—and then Ariel and Tia. Strength in numbers. He stepped back from Belle, who slid to the ground once Gaston had let go of his grip on her.

"Do any of you have a phone?"

"I'm dialing 911," Tia said, punching the numbers into her cell.

"Good—Ariel, go get help," Snow instructed.

Ariel didn't have to be told twice. She sprinted back towards the gymnasium. Gaston looked around, apparently looking for an escape route.

"Don't even think about it," Snow said. "You know you can't get away with this—not this time, Gaston. There were witnesses. And if you run… if you _don't _cooperate… it will only make your case look worse. Now. Step… back."

Gaston slowly, sheepishly backed himself against the wall opposite Belle and Snow rushed forward and knelt at the crumpled girl's side. Snow helped her sit up and pulled her into a hug. Belle was sobbing, and Snow let her cry into her shoulder. She rocked the girl back and forth as she tried to soothe her. All the while, Snow didn't take her piercing glare off of Gaston.

"It's okay… It's okay, Belle," Snow whispered, her voice soft but her gaze sharp. "I've got you—you're safe now."


	21. Jasmine, October 3

**XXI.** Jasmine, October 3

* * *

Jasmine rolled over and groaned. Her head was pounding and she felt nauseous and thirsty. A bright light was already streaming through the window, and she blinked a couple of times to try to get used to it. No use—it still hurt. She reached over to the other side of the bed and found that it was empty. That was new. She sat up and tried to remember the night before. The blurry events of the homecoming dance slowly came into focus. The pre-party, the meltdown, the resulting argument with Thomas.

Jasmine remembered Aladdin shouting at her in front of all those people, making such a fool out of her. She couldn't remember exactly what he said, but she remembered it hurt. But that wasn't the worst of it—it was only the beginning of a rather horrific night. Of course Thomas had been there as Jasmine's date, and he had seen the whole thing go down. Apparently something Jasmine had said or done had indicated that she wasn't over Aladdin—and how could she be? She and Aladdin had been perfect, and she had gone and screwed it up by playing this stupid cheating game. After Jasmine's freak-out at Aladdin, Thomas had dragged her outside, away from the music, because apparently she hadn't been yelled at enough already that night.

"What was that all about?" Thomas had asked.

"What—what do you mean?" Jasmine responded.

"You throwing yourself at your ex-boyfriend while I was standing _right _there?" Thomas said. "What's up with that?"

"Thomas, you—you think this is _serious_?" Jasmine asked.

"I didn't have any reason to think otherwise," Thomas said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Thomas, we—we started getting together when I was still with Aladdin," Jasmine said. "And… you knew I was with other guys then… The only reason we're together now is because Aladdin caught us."

"So—what, have you been with other guys since you started calling me your boyfriend?" Thomas asked, exasperated.

"Sure, I mean—haven't you been with other girls?" Jasmine asked.

"No," Thomas responded, shaking his head and looking at the ground. "No, Jasmine, I haven't been with anyone but you. I thought that was what it meant when you called someone your 'girlfriend.' I thought that had something to do with loyalty and… and faithfulness."

"How could you _possibly _think that?" Jasmine said. "I never…"

"Yeah, well… maybe Aladdin was right," Thomas said angrily. "Maybe you need to clean up your act. Goodnight."

And with that, he had stormed off to his car angrily, leaving Jasmine standing by the school entrance, alone and without a ride home. She had stumbled off onto the grass and sat down behind a bush, leaning against the side of the building. She had started to sob then, and she was crying now as she thought back on it. She wasn't crying because she was so sad to lose Thomas—it wasn't as though they had had a meaningful relationship, anyway—it was more about what the whole thing represented. Maybe Thomas and Aladdin were right.

She eventually had calmed down a little bit until only an occasional tear fell, but she stayed where she was, not really sure what to do next without a car or anyone to rely on. She heard police sirens in the distance, and then they grew closer and a police car pulled into the school lot. Paranoid and sure that the police were coming for her, Jasmine hid behind the bushes and watched as two policemen ran into the building. Maybe they weren't looking for her, then—she wondered why they were there. A few minutes later, the policemen walked out, dragging a resistant Gaston. Jasmine raised her eyebrows, wondering what had happened. She couldn't say she was particularly surprised that Gaston had caused some kind of trouble, but she was curious to find out exactly what type, as it could have been just about anything.

The policemen shoved the cuffed Gaston into the back of the police car and Jasmine's question was quickly answered as a group of people spilled out onto the bus port. First were Ariel, Tiana, Phoebus, and Hercules, quickly followed by Snow White, who had her arm around a crying Belle.

"Oh, no," Jasmine whispered to herself.

She had lit class with both Gaston and Belle, so she had seen the way Gaston harassed and picked on Belle—and she also saw the way he looked at her, with a horrible concoction of lust and malice. Jasmine knew that she was no saint herself, but she knew that whatever Gaston had done or tried to do to Belle was inexcusable. Jasmine shook her head, wishing she could go and comfort Belle. But she was drunk and it would show—and she couldn't risk that with the cops right there.

Jasmine sat back against the wall and pulled out her phone and tried to find someone in her contacts list that could drive her home. After ten minutes of searching, she threw her phone down in the dirt in frustration. Once upon a time, she had a group of friends who she probably could've called in a situation like this, but apparently she had alienated all of them. Most of all, she had Aladdin. She could've called him any time and he would've been there for her. He would have dropped everything to come to her rescue when she was in need. How many people can say they have someone who would do that for them?

"Hey, are you okay?"

Jasmine looked up and found a girl with wavy, light blonde hair standing above her. Jasmine squinted up at her—she looked familiar, but Jasmine couldn't place her name. She was pretty sure the girl was a junior, and that she had seen her hanging out with Snow, but she couldn't remember anything else.

"I—um—"

"Here, let me help you," the girl said, reaching toward Jasmine and trying to help her up.

"No! No, the cops will—"

"The cops left," the girl said quizzically. "It's okay, I'm not going to get you in trouble."

"Oh," Jasmine said, and allowed the girl to help her up. "What's your name?"

"Aurora," the girl said. "And you're Jasmine, right?"

"Mm-hmm," Jasmine said, nodding.

"Do you need a ride or something, Jasmine?" Aurora asked.

"No, I'm—I'm just going to walk, I think—" Jasmine said, and turned away, beginning to walk clumsily towards the road.

"Don't be ridiculous," Aurora said. "Come on, I'm leaving now anyway—I'll give you a ride."

Sitting in her bed now with the worst hangover she could remember, Jasmine was surprised and grateful for the stranger's kindness. As far as she was aware, she had never done anything particularly kind of this girl, but the girl had given her a ride home when she'd had no one else. Still, the one act of kindness didn't make the bad things that had happened that night seem any less horrible. Yawning, Jasmine finally got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Closing the door, she saw the calendar that she had hung on the inside of it. It was still on September, so she flipped the page up to October and something hit her. She took the calendar down from the door and flipped back a couple of months, and then flipped forward. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she dropped the calendar, stumbled over to the toilet, and threw up.

* * *

Jasmine stood nervously before the door to Aladdin's apartment. She could feel herself fidgeting and she couldn't stand still. She raised her hand to knock and hesitated. She didn't have a choice. She had no one else to turn to. She knocked, then stepped to the side a bit in case Aladdin looked through the peephole and decided not to open the door. The door swung open and there he was, still in his pajamas, his hair a bit messy. He made a little noise of disgust and tried to close the door, but Jasmine lunged forward and stopped the door from closing, looking at Aladdin desperately.

"Wait," Jasmine said, looking him directly in the eye. "Please. I don't have anyone else to turn to and… I need help. It's… kind of an emergency."

Aladdin looked at her for a few moments, then sighed deeply and let her into the apartment. She stepped inside, feeling awkward. It was the first time she'd been in the apartment as anyone but Aladdin's girlfriend, and it felt strange and suddenly unfamiliar and unwelcome.

"What is it, Jasmine?" Aladdin said, his voice somewhat harsh and impatient as he closed the door.

"I—" she said, her voice breaking. "I'm pregnant."

She began sobbing and Aladdin, in shock, allowed her to fall into his arms and cry against his chest. When he overcame the shock, his first instinct was just to comfort her, even after what she had done to him. He hugged her and stroked her hair, trying to say whatever calming things he could to get her to stop crying. He finally led her over to the couch and sat her down, taking a seat next to her. She eventually gained some composure.

"Are you sure?" Aladdin asked, looking at her seriously. "I've heard pregnancy tests can give false positives."

"I'm… pretty sure," Jasmine said. "Like, ninety-nine percent. It all adds up, I don't know why I didn't realize sooner."

"How… far along are you?" Aladdin asked, clearing his throat midway through the sentence.

"You mean, are you the father?" Jasmine said, looking glum. "I don't know. But I screwed it up with Thomas, too, so I guess it doesn't really matter."

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. It was awkward but seemed necessary. Jasmine didn't even want to think about, never mind bring up, the fact that there were other potential fathers beyond those two. She had always been "safe" as far as she knew—well, as safe as one could possibly be without being on the pill. And besides, Aladdin didn't need to know that there had been anyone else.

"What are you going to do?" Aladdin asked.

"I really don't know," Jasmine said. "I don't feel right getting an abortion, but… then again… how screwed up is this kid going to be? I mean, I've been drinking, obviously, and… I know what that can do to a… a fetus."

"Would you want to… keep the baby?" Aladdin asked, trying to put it delicately.

"Like, for my own?" Jasmine asked, looking distant. "I don't know—I'd never thought about it. I guess I can't imagine having a baby in the world that isn't… mine."

"Well, it's your decision, Jas," Aladdin said. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. But if you decide to keep the baby—and it turns out that it is my baby and not Thomas's—I will be a father to that child. I'm not going to… be your boyfriend or marry you or anything, but I think every child should… be lucky enough to have a father."

"I don't know… I don't know what to do," Jasmine said, shaking her head and putting it down on the armrest of the couch.

"Well, first of all, you should go to a doctor," Aladdin said. "You need to find out how far along you are and I'm sure the doctor can give you the information you need to make this decision. It's not something you should take lightly."

"Will you go with me?" Jasmine asked. "When I make the appointment, I mean."

Aladdin sighed, "Sure, Jas. I'll go with you."

"Thank you," Jasmine said, wiping her face on her sleeve.

"Does Thomas know?" Aladdin asked.

"No," Jasmine admitted. "I just realized this morning, and… I don't think we're exactly on speaking terms after last night."

"What happened?" Aladdin asked.

"We just had a fight… over you," Jasmine said. "I think we broke up. I guess we did, yeah. And then… Oh. Do you know what happened last night?"

"Well, a _lot _of things happened last night," Aladdin said.

"I mean with Belle and Gaston," Jasmine said.

"Oh… that," Aladdin said, looking serious. "That was pretty bad. I didn't actually witness any of it, but from what I heard… That creep Gaston tried to rape Belle, but Snow stopped him."

"So he didn't succeed?" Jasmine said hopefully.

"No—that's what I've heard, anyway," Aladdin said. "They say Snow was just in time. How she knew what was going on and where to find them—who knows? Pretty heroic, if you ask me. I guess Tiana Grenouille and that new girl Ariel were there with Snow and Prince, and Tiana called 911 while Ariel ran for help. Ariel found Hercules and Phoebus and got them to come and hold Gaston while they waited for the police."

"That's amazing," Jasmine nodded. "Wow. I wonder how Belle's doing."

"A lot better than she would have been if Snow hadn't showed up, that's for sure," Aladdin said. "Last I heard, Gaston was still in police custody… And with so many witnesses hopefully they'll be able to get him put away for a long time. I'm pretty sure he's eighteen, so that's good."

"Yeah, he deserves it," Jasmine said, then her eyes drifted down to her stomach.

"Are you going to be okay?" Aladdin asked.

"I don't know," Jasmine said.

"I know you're lonely, Jasmine, but you don't have to be," Aladdin said. "I don't know what changed, but you used to be so awesome and fun and kind. You can be that way again—you don't need to be in a relationship to be happy. I think maybe you should try… I don't know, seeing a therapist or something. It might do you some good."

"Yeah, maybe," Jasmine said absently.

"I'm serious," Aladdin said. "I know you don't think it's true, but I do care about you. I wouldn't have said those things last night if I didn't."

Jasmine leaned towards Aladdin but he put his hands on her shoulders and stopped her.

"I think you should go now," he said.

He led her to the door and she turned as she walked out into the hallway. She looked at him, pausing for a moment.

"I love you," she said.

Aladdin sighed, "I know."


	22. Belle, October 4

**XXII.** Belle, October 4

* * *

Belle sat in an empty classroom. It was Monday afternoon, and she was here for detention. She figured she could have reasonably gotten out of it had she made any effort to, but she hadn't. The best thing to do right now was to act like everything was normal. She pursed her lips as she thought of it—normal. Would things ever feel quite normal again?

_Yes. They have to. Bad things happen, and you bounce back. This is no exception._

Ms. Fee, the kindly guidance counselor, had called Belle into her office earlier that day. She had suggested that Belle might need to take a day or two off. Belle thought that sounded horrific—true, she could always escape into her books, but school was an even better distraction. School would tire her out, at the very least, and then it would be harder for the thoughts to keep her up at night. No, staying home was maybe the worst possible solution. Ms. Fee tried to get Belle to open up about the incident, and though Belle appreciated the effort, she wasn't comfortable talking to a complete stranger that probably couldn't really relate to the situation.

She had come to this room right from class, and she was the first one to arrive. Not even the teacher presiding over the detention session was here yet. So Belle was left alone with her thoughts. Of course, those thoughts went right to the Gaston situation. He had been immediately expelled from Walt Disney High School, but that was not enough. Gaston was going to get a lot more than an expulsion of Belle had her way—and Snow was going to assist in that. Belle and Snow now shared an inexplicable and immediate bond and they already had a plan worked out to make sure Gaston never, ever did anything like this again. Thinking about this was the only thing that made Belle feel better. She felt like she would forever be indebted to Snow for stopping Gaston before he could finish what he had started. Belle knew that Snow had not been so lucky.

Throughout the day, Belle had felt all eyes were directed at her. Of course, people tried to be subtle about it—glancing from the corner of their eyes, or staring when they thought she wasn't looking. When she walked down a hallway, things got uncomfortably silent and she could hear faint whispers of pity. She didn't want anyone's pity. She wanted their support—she wanted them to back her up, to speak out against Gaston and people like him. What was the most unbelievable was that some people seemed to be on Gaston's side. One girl who was well-known for having a long-standing unrequited crush on Gaston had been telling people that Belle had been asking for it. Another girl in a similar situation was spreading a rumor that Belle had consented and only got embarrassed when she was caught and pretended the thing had been nonconsensual. Of course it hurt a bit, but it was a comfort to know that no one believed such gossip. Almost everyone who had ever met Gaston knew that he was a scumbag and hardly anyone doubted that he was capable of the things of which he was accused.

The door burst open—it was Adam. He had been running. He was gasping for air and his clothes and hair were disheveled. He looked at Belle for a moment, his mouth hanging open a bit and his eyes sympathetic and full of regret. He looked almost surprised at the fact that she looked exactly the same as she had the last time he saw her—as if he had expected her to have changed physically in some way. He walked into the room, beginning towards Belle's desk slowly. She stood and he sped up his pace, embracing her in a shielding hug. She leaned against him, her face against his chest as he buried his face into her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry," he finally whispered.

Here in this empty classroom with Adam holding her protectively, Belle felt safer than she'd felt in the past couple of days. It seemed strange that this boy she had known for less than a month could make her feel so secure with such a simple gesture, but he did. They hadn't even been on any kind of friendly terms until very recently, and yet she felt like they shared a special bond, maybe because they had become friends despite his resistance, and because of the care he had shown for her when he stood up to Gaston.

"This is all my fault," Adam muttered.

"What?" Belle asked, lifting her head from his chest and looking up into his face. "Of course it isn't your fault."

"I should have been there," Adam said. "At the dance."

"Adam, there's no way you could have known—"

"I never would have let this happen to you," Adam said quietly, and Belle was shocked by the intense emotions in his eyes.

"That means a lot," Belle said softly.

A man cleared his throat loudly, and the two jumped apart from each other, startled. They looked to the front of the room and saw Mr. Facilier, who taking long strides to the desk at the front of the room. He put some folders down on the table and looked at Adam and Belle.

"You two here for detention?"

"Um… uh-huh," Adam answered, looking over at Belle.

Mr. Facilier sat down and put his feet up on the desk, yawning. His limbs were long and dangly—in fact his whole figure seemed to be stretched out. His skin was a light brown and he had a small gap between his front teeth, a thin mustache, and striking purple eyes. He was a geometry teacher, and Belle and Adam had each had him their freshman years. He didn't seem to remember either of them, or if he did, he didn't care. He looked at his watch with a bored expression, then looked at the list of students who were supposed to be at the detention session.

"What were your last names?" he asked.

"Lumineux," Belle said.

"Bête."

"Very good," Mr. Facilier said monotonously.

It was clear to anyone who had ever had him for a class that Mr. Facilier hated his job. He seemed to have no interest in any of the duties that were actually assigned to him, although occasionally he would go off on a tangent about something completely irrelevant, in which case he would be enthusiastic and captivating. The students usually enjoyed this aspect of his class, but other than that it was dismal, especially since Mr. Facilier took out his hatred for his job on his students, grading their work extremely harshly and never giving anyone any kind of break. Apparently his hatred of his job extended to detention duty, although he seemed more apathetic about this part and less vindictive. That was a good sign.

Immediately after the two had given their names, other students began to slowly file into the room. Belle and Adam took two desks that were next to each other towards the back of the room. They didn't speak for a while. Belle could feel Adam's eyes on her—he seemed to be watching her intently. But Belle didn't want to look back at him right now. With him nearby, she felt relaxed and she allowed her focus to drift elsewhere—or nowhere, as the case was. She watched absently as different students walked in and took their seats. One girl with voluminous black hair and copper toned skin seemed to be arguing heatedly with Mr. Facilier about something before finally giving in, throwing her arms up with a huff and taking a seat at the front near the door. Once the room was just about full, Mr. Facilier begrudgingly stood and ambled over to the door, pushing it shut. He turned to the students, surveying them with disinterest.

"If any of y'all have yet to give me your last name, I suggest you do so unless you would like to be joining me for a future detention," Mr. Facilier said, looking around at the students pointedly. "Other than that… Keep it down."

Mr. Facilier moved back over to the desk and repositioned himself with his feet up. He picked up a hat he had set beside his things and placed it over his face, leaning back. Belle raised an eyebrow. Detention was somehow not at all what she had imagined it would be. In fact, she could not really see how this was supposed to be a type of punishment—she figured she could just read a book. She turned and saw Adam. She had almost forgotten he was there, although he was the reason she had been comfortable enough to forget. She felt she shouldn't read with him there. She didn't want to ignore him. Mostly she just wanted to get to know him better, to learn more about this person who she could feel so comforted by without really knowing. It was strange to think that so recently he had been a complete enigma to her, and even stranger to think that he still sort of was a mystery.

Belle focused and found that Adam was looking curiously at her. She smiled and looked away. She picked up her desk and moved it right next to Adam's so they could talk quietly. At first she didn't really know what to say.

_Well, why should it be any different to talking to anyone else? _Belle thought to herself, and decided to treat this as she would treat any other getting-to-know-you conversation.

"So… Adam," Belle said. "Um… Do you have a favorite book?"

"I… don't really read very much," Adam said, looking a bit shamefully at his hands.

"Oh, don't feel bad," Belle said, reaching out and touching one of his hands. "I didn't mean to… Well, I wasn't really thinking. If you want, I could lend you some of my favorites that I think you'd like. If you're interested, that is."

"I would like that," Adam smiled genuinely, though he didn't look up at Belle.

"Are you okay?" Belle asked, wondering why Adam seemed suddenly unable to look at her.

"It seems like I should be the one asking that question," Adam said.

"Why—" Belle began to ask, then she realized—he meant the dance. Of course she hadn't forgotten, but for once it hadn't been at the forefront of her mind. "Oh. I'm fine, Adam, truly."

"Belle, I just… I never… _never_ would let something like that happen to you," he said quietly, and when he finally looked up and caught her eye, his gaze was more intense than she had ever seen, his eyes were glossed over and his mouth was a hard, firm line.

Belle was taken aback by this sudden admission. She blinked, unsure of what to say next. Adam had quickly looked back down at the desk, apparently embarrassed. It was sweet that he felt so protective of her, but at the same time she felt that being protected was not the issue. People like Gaston were the issue. Still, Belle wondered what this meant about her and Adam. Was this his convoluted way of trying to tell her something? Belle was positive that his eyes were conveying something more than friendship. She reached across to his desk and took Adam's hand, turning it over and interlocking their fingers. He looked up at her with surprise.

"You're very sweet," Belle said.

The two sat quietly for a few minutes, and it was nice. Belle once again allowed herself to feel completely at peace, and she let her racing mind rest. She told herself that she didn't _need _Adam there to feel like this, but something about knowing he was nearby encouraged a tranquility in her. As she sat with her thoughts, she realized that she felt something new, and wondered if this could be one of those feelings she had only ever read about. She understood now why someone might want to write about this—she could think of a number of metaphors of her own to articulate the way her insides felt, but decided she wanted to keep them to herself.

"Adam," she finally said, pulling her hand back towards herself gently. "I'm going to testify against Gaston—you know that, right?"

"I had hoped you would," Adam said, then continued with a bit of a growl in his voice, "He doesn't deserve to ever see the light of day again as far as I'm concerned."

Belle touched his arm gently, "I… I'd really like you to be there when I do. I don't know when it will be, but… it would be nice to have a friend… an ally, I guess, in the courtroom with me."

"Snow will be there, won't she?" Adam asked. "And the other girls who witnessed it?"

"Of course," Belle nodded. "They'll all testify, of course, and they are my friends, but… I don't know. I just…"

"No," Adam shook his head. "You don't need to give me any reason—of course I'll be there."

"Thank you," Belle smiled, then leaned over to give Adam a long hug.

She imagined sitting in a courtroom and looking directly at Gaston as she told her story. She had no fears about this. She knew she could do it, and she honestly couldn't wait to. There was no way she could lose. Although very few other people knew at this point, Snow had shared her experience with Belle. The two had had a very long and personal conversation and Belle felt a connection with the girl despite their limited interactions. They were certainly going to be spending a lot more time together in the near future in preparation for the testimony against Gaston, and Belle was looking forward to getting to know Snow in spite of the misfortune that had brought them together. Despite what she had been through, Snow seemed to have it together. Obviously she was upset by what had happened to her, but she had risen above it—and now she was finally going to get the closure she so desperately wanted by helping to put Gaston behind bars. Belle admired Snow and hoped she could project as much strength as the older girl did. She felt almost sure that she could.

"You look tired," Adam said.

"I am," Belle said, suppressing a yawn.

"I don't think he would mind much if you took a little nap," Adam said, gesturing towards Mr. Facilier.

"I'm just afraid I wouldn't wake up," Belle said.

"I'll make sure you do," Adam said.

The idea of sleeping right now was extremely appealing. Belle obviously hadn't been sleeping well recently and now she felt more relaxed than ever. At this moment, the desk in front of her looked more appealing than any pillow in the world had ever looked.

"Well…" Belle said apprehensively.

"Look, you can even use this as a blanket," Adam said, pulling a big zip-up hoodie out of his backpack.

"Okay," Belle finally gave in.

She pulled the hoodie around her shoulders and crossed her arms over the desk, resting her head between them. The hoodie smelled like Adam—a sort of evergreen smell which seemed much stronger with the garment covering her. Inhaling deeply, Belle closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax completely, knowing that Adam was there and that no harm would come to her. Gaston was in custody anyway, and if she—and every other logical person in this town—had her way, he would never be a threat to anyone again. This comforting thought allowed her to let her mind drift off into a different place entirely.


	23. Esme, October 8

**XXIII.** Esme, October 8

* * *

Esmeralda Rom and her boyfriend Phoebus Chevalier were on their way to lunch following their Friday calculus class with Mrs. Hearts when they heard an unusual sound coming from the cafeteria. Esme stopped talking, putting a hand up to quiet Phoebus, and listened for a moment. She gave Phoebus a look of concern and hurried towards the cafeteria, closely followed by her boyfriend. The lunch period had just begun so the room had not yet filled with students, but already there was a group of students clumped together in one corner. That was where the sound was coming from—the chanting. The students seemed to be surrounding something, and some of them were pumping their fists in the air. Knowing how cruel high school students could be when they grouped together, Esme was immediately worried. Her instincts told her that there was a person at the center of that crowd, and that that person needed help. She looked around—the only members of faculty in the room seemed to be the servers and cashiers, and they were preoccupied. The faculty members who usually patrolled the room looking to punish mischief makers were suspiciously absent. Esme handed Phoebus her bag and ran across the cafeteria, weaving through tables and students to make her way to the crowd.

When she was at the edge of the still-growing crowd, Esme could hear the things they were saying—encouraging abuse of the student at the center and shouting rude things at whoever it was. Disgusted, Esme began pushing people aside until she reached the center of the ring.

"Quasi?" Esme said softly as she recognized the victim.

He looked away from her, looking ashamed. The students standing around them had been somewhat quieted—Esme could hear them talking in hushed tones, but they were clearly distracted from their abuse by her actions. It was clear that they had been throwing food at the poor boy. Esme knelt down in from of him and plucked a piece of spaghetti from his hair, throwing it on the ground. Esme had known the boy, Quasimodo Michaud, longer than she had known any of her other friends, despite the fact that he was two years younger than her. He had been born with a physical deformity that had caused him to be ridiculed almost constantly, but Esme had never even seemed to notice how different Quasi was. Until recently, Esme had considered Quasi her best friend, but since her relationship with Phoebus had begun over the summer, the two had grown distant and Esme wasn't sure if Quasi still considered her worthy of that title. Looking down at Quasi hugging his legs to his chest on the floor, Esme felt horrible for how little she had seen him this year—and then, remembering who had put him in this situation, she felt angry. She turned her body toward the students who still stood around them in a circle, while still huddling close to her friend.

"What is your problem?" Esme shouted. "What did Quasi ever do to you?"

A couple of people looked guilty and began shuffling away. Others looked on in surprise, seemingly unable to move or look away. But then there were the jerks who didn't see what was so wrong with cornering the gentle sophomore, dumping food on him and shouting abuse.

"No one that ugly should be allowed to leave their house!" someone shouted from behind a cluster of students, where they conveniently couldn't be seen.

Esme stood and looked around with a piercing glare.

"Who said that?" she yelled, her expression dead serious. "Whoever you are—you're a coward. Not to mention a dimwit with a horrible personality. I know some of you are just too immature to understand that what you're doing is wrong, but for those of you who do—shame on you. You're not even worthy to be in the presence of this boy because you are so far below him."

The crowd dissipated pretty quickly after that little speech, and Esme turned to Quasi, helping him up off the ground. Phoebus pushed through the students who were walking away from the scene. He looked at Esme, then at Quasi, and shook his head. Esme took her bag back, and thanked Phoebus, then began leading Quasi out of the cafeteria.

"Where are we going?" Quasi asked.

"We're going to get you cleaned up," Esme said.

"Should I—" Phoebus began, as he was following alongside Esme.

"No," Esme said, though she smiled at Phoebus. "You stay here—make sure justice is upheld while I'm gone."

Esme led Quasi beyond the bathrooms and he looked at her inquisitively.

"The bathrooms will be full of people at this time—I figured the locker rooms would be empty since there are no classes right now," Esme said.

"Oh… yeah," Quasi nodded.

The two went into the men's locker room and Esme led Quasi to the sink and helped him wash out his hair. He washed off his arms and face while Esme picked through the lost-and-found for something Quasi's size. She found a clean t-shirt that looked like it would fit him and brought it over to him, and he changed.

"Why are you helping me?" Quasi asked.

Esme looked at Quasi like he had three heads—it was a look he was used to, but not from her.

"Don't be ridiculous," Esme said. "You're my best friend."

"I didn't know you still considered me that," Quasi said, looking at the floor.

"Of course I do," Esme said, putting a hand under Quasi's chin and tilting his head up. "Who else?"

"I don't know… Phoebus," Quasi said.

"Phoebus is my _boyfriend_," Esme said. "There's a difference. I've known you for a lot longer. You mean a lot to me, Quasi. I hate that I haven't seen you much lately."

"I didn't think you cared," Quasi shrugged.

"Well, I'm sorry you think that," Esme said. "I would love it if you would come sit with Phoebus and me at lunch."

"Really?" Quasi asked.

"Of course—you and I always sat together last year, why should this year be any different?" Esme asked.

"I just thought you and Phoebus would want to be… alone," Quasi said.

"It's school lunch," Esme chided. "It's not like it's a date or something. Come on—there's a few minutes left, maybe we can grab a snack or something."

Back in the cafeteria, Esme formally introduced Quasi and Phoebus and sat between them. Phoebus shared what was left of his lunch with the two as they caught up.

"What have you been up to?" Esme asked.

"Nothing really," Quasi said, and he was being truthful. "Mostly just schoolwork, I guess. How about you?"

"Nothing really interesting," Esme said. "I had detention Monday though."

"What—you, detention?" Quasi asked.

"It's my theology teacher—Mr. Frollo," Esme said glumly. "I don't know what it is, but he just has some kind of problem with me. I swear I haven't done anything to provoke him. I do all my work, I'm actually genuinely interested in the material, and I always pay attention in class and yet… It's like he has some kind of personal vendetta against me."

"So how did he justify giving you a detention?" Quasi asked.

"He said he saw me cheating on a quiz, which is impossible because I wasn't," Esme said. "But there was really nothing I could do about it. I mean… it was his word against mine."

"That's ridiculous," Quasi shook his head. "It's too bad there's no way you can prove you didn't cheat."

"Well, it's no wonder the students are such jerks when the faculty is setting such a bad example," Phoebus put in.

"That's true," Esme said, looking thoughtful. "I'm so glad to be out of here after this year—sorry, Quasi."

"It's alright," Quasi shrugged. "I've been through worse than high school—although it won't be the same here without you around."

"I'm sure you'll do okay," Esme said.

Quasi nodded, although he looked unsure. Esme decided to change the subject—she didn't want to worry Quasi too much about the future.

"So, got any plans for Halloween yet?" Esme asked.

"No—I was thinking I might skip it this year," Quasi said.

"Skip Halloween?" Esme asked, looking at him with surprise—Halloween was Quasi's favorite holiday. He never missed it, and he always had the most creative costumes. "How could you skip Halloween?"

"I don't know, I'm just not feeling it this year," Quasi said, shrugging.

"Come on," Esme said, tilting her head at Quasi. "You've got to be joking—you _love _Halloween! Anyway, I don't have plans yet so we should all do something together. What do you say?"

"I guess," Quasi said.

"It'll be fun," Esme said, shoving Quasi lightly with her arm. "I promise."

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch. Esme, Phoebus, and Quasi stood and cleared off their trash from the table. Esme made Quasi promise to call or text her later, and then the three went their separate ways off to class.

* * *

Esme couldn't help but feel frustrated as she sat in her eighth block theology class. She hoped the frustration didn't show on her face. She was reluctant to answer any of Mr. Frollo's questions for fear that he might find some way to punish her for her response. The way he had been treating her was actually a bit ridiculous, and Esme couldn't even begin to understand it. It had been clear within the first couple days of this school year that Mr. Frollo had a problem with Esme. At first, she thought she could make him like her by reading the textbook closely, studying hard for quizzes and tests, and writing stellar papers. She did well on the quizzes, where it was indisputable that Esme had the proper knowledge required—with the exception, of course, of the quiz Mr. Frollo had claimed she cheated on, which meant an automatic F. The papers, however, were another story. Since a large part of grading papers was subjective, Mr. Frollo didn't really have to justify giving Esme Cs and Ds on all of her papers—and he did so, seemingly with pleasure. Whenever he handed her back a paper, the corners of his lips would curl up into a cruel smile. Esme was disgusted that he took such pleasure in trying to drag down Esme's GPA.

Mr. Frollo was currently lecturing about the caste system in India and how it related to religion. As she had done the reading—both out of a stubborn and probably futile effort to try to reverse Mr. Frollo's feelings about her—she knew the answers to all the questions and was struggling to keep quiet while Mr. Frollo called on other students who didn't know the answer. Weeks before, he had tried calling on Esme a couple of times—an act which would make most students squirm. But Esme had answered his questions flawlessly, which only seemed to disappoint him. Esme herself was disappointed that such an interesting class had to be taught by such a hostile instructor.

Wrapping up his lecture for the day, Mr. Frollo stopped pacing around the classroom and stepped back to the podium at the front of the room. He opened a folder and picked up a stack of papers.

"Now, I've finished grading your papers," Mr. Frollo said, his voice menacing. "And let's just say they were… less than illuminating."

He went around the room and handed back the papers one by one. There were various sounds of frustration and annoyance heard around the room. Esme knew that she wasn't the only one receiving bad grades on her papers in this class, but she wasn't sure if the others in the class didn't deserve the bad grades. She doubted anyone else in that class worked as hard on their papers as she did. She wasn't being full of herself, but she knew that the papers she had written were quality. And she knew that Mr. Frollo had a particular hatred for her because the way he sneered at her and put down everything she said in class was far worse than the way he treated anyone else.

He finally reached Esme's desk and put down her paper face up. She didn't even bother looking up to see his face—she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her disappointment. It was an F—the worst grade she had gotten on a paper so far in the class, and completely ridiculous. At least Ds and Cs could be chalked up to pure subjectivity, but an F? There was no possible justification for giving an F to this paper—in fact, Esme thought it was even much better than the others she had written so far. Underneath the circled F, in Mr. Frollo's jagged scrawl, was written "see me after class." Esme groaned and slumped back in her chair. She glanced over curiously at the desk next to her. The boy sitting there, a muscular Chinese guy in a football jersey, had even gotten a better grade than her—a C-, but still a better grade. He had his hand raised.

"Yes, Mr. Li?" Mr. Frollo said, sighing.

"How can we get better grades on these papers?" the boy asked, throwing his hands up into the air. "I mean, I've been trying to improve but you haven't written anything on the papers you've given back about why I got the grade I did. I don't understand how I'm supposed to do any better than this when you won't tell me what I'm doing wrong."

"Well, clearly you're not trying hard enough," Mr. Frollo said, his fingers curling around the edges of the podium and gripping it as he leaned forward. "If you were, maybe I'd get some interesting papers to read rather than this… drivel that you all have been giving me. Any other questions?"

Mr. Frollo discouraged any potential questions by looking around the room, basically giving a death glare to everyone. The bell rang a few seconds later, and Mr. Frollo leaned back from the podium as the students gathered their things hurriedly and headed out the door. Esme sat at her desk, seeing no reason to rush since she would be stuck here for a little while longer anyway. She wasn't sure quite how to feel about this—she certainly didn't want to be around Mr. Frollo, but she hoped she could at least get some answers as to why he was going out of his way to make sure she got the lowest grade possible. Once the room had cleared out, Mr. Frollo closed the door and turned to Esme.

"Ms. Rom," he said, as slowly as it was probably possible to say such a short name.

"Yes," Esme said, picking her bag up and walking with dread towards the front of the room.

"You are aware that you received a failing grade on your latest essay," Mr. Frollo said.

"Of course," Esme said, then dared to add, "Quite undeservedly."

"You think so?" Mr. Frollo asked, looking amused.

"I know so," Esme said, surprised that she was actually saying the words that were coming to her mind—she supposed she couldn't possibly make things worse than they already were.

"I'm assuming you would rather receive a more… laudable grade, would you not?" Mr. Frollo asked, his voice smooth and his words rehearsed.

"Obviously," Esme said, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Well then," Mr. Frollo said, stepping around Esme and putting his hands on her shoulders. "I can't see why we shouldn't be able to come to some… agreement."

"What are you talking about?" Esme asked, the color draining from her face—though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Oh, I think you know," Mr. Frollo leaned forward and whispered in Esme's left ear while his right hand reached around and caressed the right side of her face.

She quickly pulled away and turned so that Mr. Frollo was in front of her. She looked at him now with more disdain even than she had before. So this must be what this was all about. Mr. Frollo was attracted to Esme, and so he took out his frustrations by making her utterly miserable. And now he thought that he could somehow bargain with her to get his way. Esme could never allow that. She had too much respect for herself.

"You're sick," Esme said, unable to disguise the look of disgust on her face.

"You know, you really have no choice," Mr. Frollo said, reaching forward and brushing a hand against Esme's hair before she pulled away. "If we don't come to some agreement you'll simply have to fail the class. All those times you'll be caught cheating on quizzes and tests—you never learn, do you?"

"It's not that easy, Mr. Frollo," Esme said through gritted teeth. "If you think I won't tell anyone about this, you don't know the first thing about me."

"You won't tell a soul," Mr. Frollo said.

"Oh yeah?" Esme said. "What makes you so confident?"

"Because who would believe you?" Mr. Frollo said—he wasn't quite laughing, but there was something like laughter in his voice. "You've already been caught cheating on a quiz, do you really want to start throwing false accusations around? Hmm?"

Esme tried to come up with a response, but she could think of nothing. He was right—without proof, it would just look like she was trying to get him in trouble, revenge for catching her cheating. As horrible as he was, there was no denying that Mr. Frollo was clever. Esme shook her head, making a noise of disgust as she headed toward the door.

"Esmeralda?" Mr. Frollo said, the syllables sounding smooth and snakelike rolling off his tongue. Esme's hand was on the door, but she looked back at Mr. Frollo against her better judgment. "You will consider my proposal. Won't you?"

A number of possible responses raced through Esme's mind, but she decided she'd rather not dignify the question with a response. She made sure to slam the door on her way out.


	24. Shang, October 9

**XXIV.** Shang, October 9

* * *

Shang Li had to admit that having Mulan on the football team had thrown him a bit. The idea of a girl playing high school football—or any football, for that matter—was just absurd in his mind. He didn't think of himself as a sexist person. He was all for equal rights for women—there was no reason for women to be discriminated against in the workplace or expected to be subservient to men or anything like that. But… this was football. The football field was no place for a woman. It was a violent, dirty, and physical sport, and women's bodies were just not made to handle that kind of activity. That's what Shang had thought as he begrudgingly played alongside Mulan for the first couple of weeks. It just wasn't right. And surely it would damage the team—both in winnings and in reputation. Slowly, though, he had to admit that she wasn't half bad—in fact, she was a pretty good addition to the team. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that, though, after he had been so standoffish. Instead he kept pretty aloof, acting only as a stern mentor and not in much of a friendly manor.

Last night had been the fourth game of the season, and Shang had finally realized that Mulan was truly a valuable player, and without her, the team would probably be sucking pretty hard right now. He hated to admit that, even to himself, but it was true. The season was almost halfway over, and they had to step up their game if they wanted to make it into the playoffs, but… with Mulan's help, Shang thought it might just be possible. Which was why he was sitting in Carioca's, a coffee shop in downtown Marceline, waiting for her to show up. He had invited her last night after the game. She had been celebrating their win by talking ecstatically to her friend and teammate Chien-Po. Shang had approached her cautiously, tapping her on the shoulder. She turned with a big grin on her face, but when she saw him her expression quickly turned serious. She wiped a wet piece of hair away from her forehead.

"Oh, hey Shang," she said.

He felt bad for a moment that his presence caused her to change her tune so completely. But he didn't feel _that _bad about it.

"Mulan," he said, nodding curtly. "I was wondering, ah… if you could—I mean, if you would want to—meet me tomorrow to talk about the, uh, strategy for the rest of the season and… stuff?"

Shang mentally kicked himself—he had intended to come across sounding much more authoritative than that, and instead he sounded like he had no idea what he was trying to say. Even though he did know. Totally. Mulan raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Um, sure, Shang," she said. "Around noon would work for me. Where did you want to meet?"

"I was thinking Carioca's?" Shang said, and kicked himself again—why did he have to make it sound like such a question? Usually he was pretty good at giving instructions and directing people in what to do, but for some reason, that wasn't going so well for him today.

"The coffee place?" Mulan asked.

"Yeah," Shang said.

"You want to go for coffee to talk about football," Mulan gave him a strange look. "Sure, okay, whatever. I'll be there at noon."

"Good," Shang said. "I'll… see you then."

Looking back on the conversation, he cringed. He was _supposed _to be a sort of leader for the team, but that little conversation didn't seem to convey that very much at all. He felt a bit foolish, but he tried not to think of it. He cradled his mug of hot coffee and looked at his watch. It was past 12:15. He wondered if Mulan was even coming. Perhaps she had forgotten, or perhaps she never had intended to come in the first place. For a moment Shang wished they had exchanged numbers at some point, but he probably wouldn't call her now anyway. He would feel ridiculous if she knew that he had shown up and she hadn't. Just as he was thinking this, the bell on the door jingled and Mulan hurried in, looking around quickly. Shang lifted his hand a little to get her attention and she came over to the table.

"I am _so _sorry I'm late," she said, pulling the chair out and sitting down.

"It's okay," Shang said. "Did you want to get something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Mulan said, putting her bag down next to the chair. "I had to make up an excuse to come here and my dad just kept asking a million questions about where I was going, it was impossible to get out of the house."

"You lied to him about where you were going?" Shang was surprised—it seemed strange to have to lie about it. His own father was so encouraging about football. In fact, football-related things often _were _his excuse when he was actually going somewhere else, like a party or something.

"My parents… don't really approve of the whole football thing," Mulan said, forcing a smile.

"Oh," Shang said, nodding as if he understood.

Of course, he understood what she was saying—the concept of it. But it was so out of the realm of what he was used to. He felt himself sympathizing with Mulan, and he felt bad that he had been so rude to her about being on the team. He couldn't imagine not being able to do what he loved with his parents approval—and he was beginning to think Mulan was a lot more passionate about the game than he was. He could tell Mulan was upset about the fact that her parents weren't supportive, even though she was trying not to show it. It explained a lot—Shang had never seen Mulan with her parents after the games, while many of the players went to talk to their families afterwards. Usually, she was with Chien-Po, and sometimes he would see her sitting alone on a bench, looking a bit glum even after a win. He felt bad for blaming her female hormones and thinking it was just some kind of mood swing that he didn't understand. If his parents never came to any of his games, he would be pretty down as well. He was pretty sure he wouldn't play half as well as Mulan did under the circumstances.

He cleared his throat, "You're, um… Pretty good at football."

"You sound surprised," Mulan raised her eyebrows. "I _did _make the team…"

"Yeah, but, I mean, for a girl, you're…"

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" Mulan asked.

Shang fumbled with his words a bit, then quickly changed the subject to the task at hand: discussing football strategy. He was surprised at the number of good ideas Mulan had. Not only was she skillful on the field, but she was proving to have a good mind for tactical matters. Shang listened to her suggestions closely, taking out a pen and writing some notes on a napkin when she made some particularly interesting suggestions. It was certainly better than anything Coach Hook would have come up with. For all his red-faced shouting and rather flamboyant jumping up and down, he didn't have much of a mind for the game when it came down for it, so those matters were left to the smartest of the players. Shang made a mental note to consult Mulan more often when making decisions.

Eventually, the conversation veered off in another direction. There was only so much to talk about in terms of planning for football, and Shang thought it would be a bit silly for the two of them to part ways so soon after meeting up, especially when Mulan had gone through so much trouble to be there.

"So… your family doesn't come to any of the games?" Shang asked, then cringed a bit, realizing it was probably a bit of a touchy subject. Mulan didn't show any signs that she minded the question, though.

"No," she shook her head. "But it's okay. I mean, I would love it if they came, but… I'm going to do what I love whether they support me or not. Maybe someday they'll get over it, but… I don't see that happening. They're very traditional. If they had their way, I'd probably be married by the time I turned twenty and about to start… continuing the family lineage."

She rolled her eyes.

"That's pretty old fashioned," Shang said.

"Yeah, they're a bit extreme in that sense," Mulan said. "But the idea that girls shouldn't play football… That's not an uncommon one."

She looked at Shang pointedly. He felt suddenly embarrassed, and looked down at his now empty cup.

"I'm sorry for being so rude before," Shang said. "And… what I said earlier. The team wouldn't be the same without you. I don't think we'd have had any sort of success, actually, if you weren't on it…"

"Hey! Shang! Mulan!"

Shang looked up, a bit startled, to see Kocoum Algonquin approaching the table with his arm around a girl. Kocoum smiled at his teammates and introduced them to his girlfriend, Nakoma.

"Mind if we join you two?" Kocoum asked, pulling up a chair from a nearby table for Nakoma.

"Not at all," Mulan said, smiling.

Shang minded a bit, but he wouldn't have said anything. He was having a pretty hard time understanding it himself, but he was really enjoying spending time one-on-one with Mulan.

"Cool, like a double date," Nakoma smiled.

"Oh, this isn't—we're not—" Shang stammered.

"It's not a date," Mulan filled in. "Shang and I were just discussing football."

"Mulan's a football _star_," Kocoum said.

"Yeah, I've seen," Nakoma said, turning to Mulan. "It's really impressive. And I think it's really cool that you joined the team even though… Well, clearly some people were a little opposed."

"Coach Hook was the only _real _opposition," Mulan said. "But… thank you. I don't think anyone should ever be prevented from doing what they love just because of society's conventions."

"Yeah," Nakoma said, and she looked thoughtful for a moment, apparently remembering something.

The four chatted for a while, mostly about trivial things and small pieces of gossip. Shang and Kocoum weren't what one might consider close friends, but they got along well enough. Everyone on the football team, with the obvious exception of Gaston, got along pretty well. Of course, the conversation wound up turning to Gaston at one point—it was the topic on everyone's mind and that everyone was discussing. It didn't seem likely that he'd be back on the team, which no one minded, but that meant that they'd need a new member. Fortunately it wouldn't be too hard to find someone, based on how many people had tried out and not made the team. Gaston had never been a particularly vital member of the team, anyway. He certainly had the brute strength required to be a good football player, and the potential was there, but he was too absorbed in his own self-image to be what might be called a "team player." When he was around, it was always the Gaston Show, and that didn't bode very well for the team. The four unanimously agreed that the team—and the school—would be better off without him. They didn't directly discuss the incident which led to Gaston's likely impending expulsion, but most people avoided that topic. Though it was on everyone's mind, it seemed too horrible and too personal a thing to discuss publicly.

"I should probably go soon," Mulan said, looking at her phone. "My dad will be getting suspicious soon, I think."

"You're not doing anything bad," Nakoma said, looking puzzled. "Your dad isn't okay with you… what, drinking coffee?"

"It's not that," Mulan said. "Although… He'd probably rather I was doing homework. It's just that my parents don't like that I play football. I don't think they'd let me take the car if they knew I was coming here to discuss football matters. I told them I was going to the library—kind of a cliché excuse, but I couldn't think of anywhere else that they'd surely let me go."

"You shouldn't hide it from them," Nakoma said, looking at Mulan with sympathy. "Maybe if you keep bringing it up… let them know it's a big part of your life… they'll start to warm up to it?"

"Maybe," Mulan said, though she sounded unsure. "I don't know about that though… I wish it was so simple."

"They'll get used to the idea eventually," Kocoum said. "They'll have to."

Shang felt like he should offer up some words of encouragement, but he couldn't come up with anything that hadn't already been said. Instead he tried to give Mulan a reassuring smile, but he just felt silly. He kind of wished Kocoum and Nakoma weren't there so that he could show her that he was actually capable of being supportive. He wished he could have spent this time having a more meaningful conversation with Mulan, rather than the somewhat stilted conversation of four acquaintances.

"How about I walk you to your car?" Shang suggested.

"Sure," Mulan agreed, standing and gathering her things. "It was nice seeing you, Kocoum… And nice to finally meet you, Nakoma!"

"You too," Nakoma smiled, and Kocoum gave Mulan a nod.

Mulan and Shang headed out to her car. They stood awkwardly by the driver's side for a few moments while Shang looked around, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He stood straight as always, but he didn't quite feel the confidence he was projecting.

"Ah… I had a lot of fun talking to you today," Shang said, and Mulan gave him a strange look. "I mean… it was very, uh… productive. You have a lot of great ideas."

"Yeah," Mulan said, looking at Shang like he had three heads. "Um, you did too."

"What I mean to say—you, um, I think you're really awesome," Shang said, already mentally kicking himself. "I just mean… you're not like other girls. Not like any girl I've ever met, actually, and… Well, I just wanted to see if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime. Some other time. And not to talk about football."

"Are you trying to ask me out?" Mulan asked, looking amused.

"Um… well, yes," Shang said, nodding assertively.

"I would love to go on a date with you," Mulan said as she took a pen from her pocket and took Shang's hand to scribble some digits on it. "Here's my number… Text me or something and we'll make plans. See you Tuesday!"

She got in the car and drove off, and Shang was left all but gaping after her in the parking lot. He tried to stay composed, but he couldn't help but feel surprised at the turn of events. He had not expected that this meeting would end with the promise of a date with Mulan. It hadn't even occurred to him to ask her out until those last few minutes. It was completely spur-of-the-moment, and he wasn't even sure why he did it. It made sense, though. In a sense, Mulan seemed to Shang to be the perfect girl, she just didn't fall into his normal "type." But what was his type, anyway? All he could think of was that he wasn't used to girls being so intelligent and strong, but this girl in particular was beginning to change his mind about just what girls could and couldn't do.


	25. Nakoma, October 11 to 12

**XXV.** Nakoma, October 11 to 12

* * *

Nakoma was having trouble focusing. Today was the second Monday in October, Columbus Day, and also the second Monday since the Homecoming Dance—Nakoma hadn't seen Pocahontas since then. The two had not a single class together this year, the first time that had happened since early grade school. Usually, though, they would pass each other in the hallway at some point, but recently Nakoma hadn't seen her best friend at all. It was pretty clear that Pocahontas was avoiding Nakoma at all costs. Nakoma was upset by this, of course, but at the same time she sympathized—she imagined if the roles had been reversed she probably would do the same. She imagined if she had told Kocoum about her feelings and he had rejected her, she probably would have been ashamed to face him. Still, Nakoma had always felt that Pocahontas was so strong—not that she herself was not strong, but Nakoma had always seen her friend as being invincible and impervious to any kind of embarrassment.

Tonight Kocoum was taking Nakoma out for the second time that weekend. She was trying to think about their impending date as she combed her hair and fixed it into a bun, but the task required so little concentration that her mind kept drifting back to the scene in the bathroom. As the scene played on repeat in her mind, she couldn't help but imagine how it might have gone differently had she said something else, or omitted some of the things she _had _said… Perhaps, she thought, it hadn't been the best move telling Pocahontas that she was bi. She didn't want to give her friend false hope—but, judging by Pocahontas's absence in Nakoma's life, she didn't have any expectations of a future relationship. Maybe she thought they couldn't even be friends under the circumstances, but the idea of losing this girl whom she had known for her entire life made Nakoma feel sick.

Kocoum arrived the minute he said he would, and Nakoma was ready. She was grateful that he hadn't been late, as she probably would have spent that time sitting around playing the what-if game. She opened the door to find Kocoum standing holding a bouquet of sunflowers. Nakoma smiled widely, taking the flowers and giving Kocoum a sincere hug as he kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said, looking at the flowers and touching the petals. "They're beautiful."

"They reminded me of you," Kocoum said sweetly, "and your smile… so I had to get them."

"Thank you," Nakoma said.

She quickly ran to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase, and then the two headed out to Kocoum's car. Kocoum had made reservations at a country club restaurant in Marceline called Club 33. Nakoma had never been to the country club, but she had driven by it many times, usually on her way to Buena Vista, as it was right on the border of the two towns. Nakoma didn't know much about the restaurant, either, but she did know that it was relatively upscale, mainly because Kocoum had informed her that she should dress up a bit. She had on a semi-formal black dress that reached midway down her thigh and a pair of black heels. It was basic, and she figured she couldn't go wrong with that.

Kocoum drove the car up to the curb in front of the entrance and came around to the passenger side to help Nakoma out. He handed the keys to a valet and took Nakoma's arm as they walked into the restaurant. She was surprised at how gentlemanly he was being. He was usually polite, yes, but now he was being downright chivalrous and romantic. Nakoma felt slightly uncomfortable with this, though she wasn't sure why. The restaurant was even more upscale than she had figured it would be, but she didn't feel underdressed. She marveled at the ornate design of the restaurant's interior and how polished everything was—from the wait staff and the trays they were carrying to the walls and ceiling. She felt slightly out of place, mainly because she felt as though she and Kocoum were probably the youngest patrons of the establishment.

The hostess led the two of them to their reserved table and a man whose only job seemed to be carrying a pitcher of water around came to the table to fill their glasses. The two picked up their menus and began glossing them over. The dishes had fancy names in French and little explanation as to what, exactly, they were. Nakoma raised an eyebrow as she scanned the booklet. She leaned across to whisper to Kocoum.

"This place is so…" she struggled to find an appropriate word, "swanky!"

Kocoum's face scrunched up in concern, "You don't like it?"

"Oh no, no," Nakoma quickly backtracked—Kocoum seemed extremely worried about impressing her or _something_. "I wasn't saying—well, I think it's great. I'm just not used to such… glamor. That's a good thing."

She tried to sound as reassuring as possible, and it seemed to work. Kocoum relaxed. Nakoma gave the menu another look, told Kocoum what she wanted to drink so he could order if the server came, and excused herself to the ladies' room. Not surprisingly, she didn't actually need to use the restroom. She found it to be extremely clean, with soft, warm lighting and stalls that had walls that stretched to the ground. She locked herself in one of them and pulled out her phone to Google the dishes she could remember the names of. She leaned her head against the wall and sighed. Normally she would have been calling Pocahontas now to tell her about how strangely the date was going, but obviously that wasn't an option right now. She opened her contacts list and scrolled to Pocahontas's name. Her finger rested over the send button for a moment, actually considering it.

"No," she muttered firmly to herself aloud and went back to Googling hopelessly. She couldn't help but think that Pocahontas could probably be really helpful in this situation.

Whoa. She suddenly felt an overwhelming frustration and that feeling was concentrated in the area of her eyes—yes, she was about to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince herself to be reasonable. Whatever it was that was conjuring up these feelings, it was _not_ reason. By all accounts, she was actually on a great date right now, in spite of the fact that she could not read a single word on the menu. Her boyfriend had taken her here, to this nice restaurant, and here she was in the bathroom moping about her estranged best friend. This was most certainly not the time to be thinking about that. She concentrated on searching for a suitable entrée until she finally found one that sounded like something she might like. She checked herself in the mirror before she left then headed back to the table.

Her drink was there when she arrived and Kocoum looked like he was ready to order. She pretended to take another look at the menu, and then set it down. The waiter came over and they ordered, and a little while later their food arrived. It was quite fancy looking—rather unnecessarily so, Nakoma thought, as it was soon going to be either in her stomach or spread about the plate. It looked so thoughtfully and neatly arranged, but Nakoma felt no shame in sticking a fork into it and ruining the "art."

"Did you see Pocahontas yesterday?" Kocoum asked Nakoma, and she nearly choked on a bit of food.

"What—no," she answered after she swallowed. "Why—why would you think that?"

Kocoum looked at her with surprise for a moment then responded, "Uh—I don't know. She's your best friend. You haven't mentioned her for a while, I figured since I'm occupying most of your time you would have spent yesterday with her."

"Oh. Oh, right," Nakoma nodded. "No, I didn't… Not yesterday, I had homework to do."

Nakoma, of course, had not told Kocoum about what had happened the previous weekend. She didn't feel it would be right to out the girl. She didn't feel as though Kocoum was in any way entitled to know, besides. Nakoma quickly steered the conversation in the direction of football, afraid that she would somehow betray the secret if the conversation continued in the direction of Pocahontas.

After the two had finished their food and the plates had been collected by a busboy, the waiter returned with dessert menus. Nakoma looked to Kocoum.

"It's up to you," he said, shrugging.

Knowing he would certainly insist on paying, Nakoma decided to forgo dessert. She was pretty full, anyway. She waved a hand as she turned the waiter down… but as she was waving the hand, she clumsily knocked the full glass of ice water into Kocoum's lap. Kocoum jumped up in surprise.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Nakoma said, leaping up quickly and trying to pat at Kocoum's shirt with her dry napkin.

For a moment he looked like he was about to be angry, but his look quickly turned to a softer one and he smiled at her. She couldn't tell if the smile was forced or not, but she was pretty sure it had to be.

"It's okay," Kocoum said. "It's no big deal."

He asked the waiter to bring the check and the two of them sat down, Kocoum dabbing at his lap occasionally. Nakoma could feel her face burning red. She couldn't remember the last time she had spilled something in a restaurant. She hadn't done anything that clumsy in public since she was a child. The waiter brought the check, Kocoum paid it despite Nakoma's protests, and the two headed outside. They stood on the curb while the valet retrieved the car. It was a bit chilly outside, and Nakoma worried about Kocoum's still wet garments making him cold. She felt terrible.

"I can't believe I did that," Nakoma said, wanting to apologize again. "I really… I feel like I ruined our night."

"Don't worry about it," Kocoum said. "It's fine. Really."

The car pulled up and the two got in. They began driving back towards Marceline.

"Do you want to come hang out at my house for a little while?" Kocoum asked.

"Sure," Nakoma said, surprised he was offering after the mess she had made of their date.

They pulled into the empty driveway and Nakoma followed Kocoum up to the dark house. It didn't look like anyone was home.

"Your parents are out?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "They're at a concert tonight, won't be back until late."

He unlocked the door and they went inside. Nakoma stood awkwardly in the foyer.

"I need to change into some drier clothes," Kocoum said, starting up the stairs.

"Okay, should I wait down—?" Nakoma began.

"We can just hang out upstairs," Kocoum said.

It was stated so casually that Nakoma couldn't see any reason to protest. She followed Kocoum up to his room. It was her first time being there. She hadn't been in Kocoum's house many times, and his family had always been home those times. Now they had the house to themselves, for once, and Nakoma doubted that Kocoum's parents knew anything about her coming over.

Kocoum's room was unexpectedly neat. Nakoma had just assumed that it would be messy—a stereotypical guy's room. Instead, it looked (and _smelled_) freshly cleaned. Kocoum took off his dampened shirt and tossed it into a hamper that sat by the door. Nakoma had seen him shirtless before—the shallow part of her whispered that it was a large part of the reason she was dating him. But seeing him without a shirt now made her feel like blushing again. She made her way over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Kocoum seemed to be examining the wetness on his trousers now, and then he seemed to be toying with the zipper and then he was taking his pants off, too. Nakoma prayed he wouldn't turn to look at her now because he would find her beet red. Surely this was just some casual thing to Kocoum, but Nakoma, though not so pure-minded, was not exactly experienced, either, and this was a situation she was fairly unfamiliar with. Kocoum, now wearing nothing but a pair of… rather_ revealing _briefs (though Nakoma told herself not to look)… came over and sat on the bed next to Nakoma.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," Kocoum said.

Nakoma guffawed, "I spilled water all over you!"

"So what?" Kocoum said, with a gesture of indifference. "The rest of the night was good, and I got to be with you. Nothing could ruin that."

Nakoma looked at Kocoum. He was being so sweet tonight. He was always kind to her, but sweetness was not one of his usual qualities. He was surprising her over and over tonight. He leaned towards her and kissed her. As they kissed, he maneuvered their bodies so that she was lying back on the bed. This was an interesting progression, she thought, especially considering that Kocoum was basically half naked. She decided to enjoy it for the moment, though, and let her mind have a rest.

She ran her hands over Kocoum's bare chest, exploring those abs that she had admired for quite a while from a distance. He ran a hand over _her _chest and she decided she could allow that, especially since this was fairly tame, with her being fully clothed and all. Then she felt Kocoum's hand brush her bare outer thigh. At first she thought it might be an innocent gesture, but then his hand moved to her inner thigh. He ran his hand up and down it a couple of times, massaging her leg, until she stopped him.

"Um… sorry, I just," she swallowed, feeling extremely awkward. "I don't think… I'm quite ready to go _there _yet."

Nakoma knew in this day and age dating for three weeks was practically a lifetime, but she was kind of a traditional girl in some ways, and she felt as though she wanted to wait at least a couple of months. She hadn't really given the idea much consideration, as she hadn't expected it to come up so soon. In retrospect, it seemed a bit naïve.

"Sorry, I—" Kocoum seemed suddenly uncomfortable. "I shouldn't have assumed."

Suddenly there was a tenseness in the room and Nakoma didn't exactly feel welcome anymore. She grabbed her purse, which had fallen to the floor, and began walking backwards towards Kocoum's bedroom door.

"I should really… head home now," Nakoma said.

"I'll give you a ride," Kocoum said, standing and heading towards his dresser.

"No, no, that's alright," Nakoma said, forcing a smile. "You're all undressed, and it's not too far a walk. It's a, um, nice night anyway, so… Yeah. I'll be going now. See you tomorrow at school?"

She said goodbye and hurried down the stairs before Kocoum could put up any kind of protest. She felt relieved once she reached the outside and began heading home. Alone, she felt much more clear-headed and she began to consider the night's events. The fancy restaurant. The flowers. Kocoum's uncharacteristic sweetness. His reaction to the spill. His parent's conspicuous absence.

The thought formulated itself: _Did he plan this whole thing?_

Nakoma felt as though the color had drained from her face, and she was glad to be alone. Thinking about the night as a whole, she started to feel a bit used. It almost seemed as though Kocoum had been trying to butter her up, maybe so that she would feel obligated to… She didn't like to think about it. She wished she could call Pocahontas and talk it over, see if maybe she was just imagining things. Pocahontas was always the one who she called with problems and things like this. She had other friends, sure, but none she felt even remotely as close to as she did to Pocahontas. When she got home and crawled into bed, she pulled out her phone and wrote a message:

_Can we meet tomorrow morning?_

Her finger hovered over the send button for a moment, and then she finally hit it before she could give herself time to change her mind. She put the phone down, closed her eyes and hugged her pillow. After just a few moments, the phone buzzed and saw the light from the screen through her eyelids. She opened her eyes and looked at the screen.

_Yes._

* * *

Nothing else had been said besides the two text messages the night before, so Nakoma assumed it would be the usual meeting place—right outside the main entrance. She got there earlier than usual, feeling anxious, and sat at a bench. She looked at her phone nervously, though nothing was happening except the numbers changing every sixty seconds.

"Hey."

Nakoma looked up. Pocahontas was standing in front of her. Nakoma's face lit up as she saw her friend.

"Pocahontas," she said warmly, standing and giving the girl a hug, which was returned weakly. "Sit with me."

Pocahontas obliged, sitting next to Nakoma on the bench.

"So… why did you want to meet me?"

"I miss you," Nakoma said.

Pocahontas looked touched for a moment, "I miss you, too."

"I've wanted to… call you asking for advice so many times, like we usually do," Nakoma said. "But I thought maybe you were angry with me."

Pocahontas shrugged.

"What did you need advice about?" she asked.

"It's about… well, it's about Kocoum," Nakoma said.

"Oh?" Pocahontas said, looking interested.

"Yeah, um…" Nakoma said. "Well, you know, we've been dating for three weeks, and… I mean, I'm definitely really into him and everything…"

"Oh," Pocahontas said, and Nakoma decided to overlook the disappointed sound she heard.

"Anyway," she continued. "Last night he took me on this really nice date and everything, but then… Well, long story short he tried to sleep with me afterwards and I just feel like… Like maybe all the nice things he did yesterday were just… well, so he could get into my pants."

Pocahontas seemed to be more interested in her fingernails now then in Nakoma's story, "So what did you do?"

"Well, I left, obviously," Nakoma said.

"So you _didn't _sleep with him?" Pocahontas asked.

"No, of course not," Nakoma said.

"Well, why not?" Pocahontas was looking at her watch now.

"Pocahontas, were you even listening?"

"Yeah, I've got to get to class now, so, um… It was nice, uh, catching up and everything. I guess I'll see you later."

Pocahontas left before Nakoma could get another word in. Nakoma sat at the bench in shock for a few moments. Pocahontas had never given her the cold shoulder before. _Never_. She could not fathom why she was acting this way. Surely it had something to do with the issue between them, but Nakoma did not ever expect Pocahontas to handle it like this. It was like she was losing her best friend _fast _and she had no idea how to make it stop.

* * *

By the final period of the day, Nakoma had gone through several different stages of distress, and now she was just feeling a bit cross. She sat in pre-calc trying not to tap her fingernails on the desk with impatience. She found herself continually glancing at the clock. She looked around at her classmates and couldn't help but find herself wondering. There were the two blondes, Ella and Aurora. Ella had been dating Charm since Homecoming. That was almost a week and a half ago. Had _they _done it? And what about Aurora and all the guys she had dated—how many of them had she slept with?

Nakoma turned and looked in the other direction. There was that guy Eric. He was dating that Vanessa girl, wasn't he? They _had _to be having sex. She bitterly looked around the classroom, playing this unhealthy game with everyone who had romantic attachments. She shook her head at herself, trying to tell herself to stop it. Finally, the bell rang and she dashed quickly out of the classroom. She saw Kocoum up ahead in the hallway and shouted after him. He stopped and let her catch up. She pulled him over to a corner. He looked at her with surprise as she pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

"Can we go someplace… private?"

"I… uh," Kocoum seemed a bit flustered. "Well my parents are home today, so I, um…"

"You have a car, don't you?" Nakoma said forwardly.

"Yeah… Yeah, I suppose I do," Kocoum said, nodding.

"Good," Nakoma smiled. "Let's go."

She took Kocoum's hand and turned. For a moment she caught a glimpse of Pocahontas down the hallway, watching them. Then she had dashed out of sight. In that moment, Nakoma felt a small pang of guilt, but it was fleeting. Soon it had been washed away by a mix of other emotions. Either way, she had made her decision and nothing was going to stop her now.


	26. Eric, October 14

**XXVI.** Eric, October 14

* * *

Eric tapped his pen in frustration. To anyone else, the steady bounce of the pen against the table probably appeared to be an expression of boredom, or at least impatience. But that wasn't quite it—Eric was frustrated. It was his second time taking Mr. Porter's biology class, and he really couldn't afford to fail this time. For some reason, he somehow just could _not_ absorb this stuff, try as he might. Admittedly, he wasn't really the studying type. It wasn't that he was a slacker by any means; it was just that he had been able to get by without studying for so long that he had fallen in to bad habits. Eric was naturally smart, always having been able to get As and Bs without any effort at all, really—until his sophomore year of high school, anyway. He had been startled when he had done so badly on his first biology quiz, and he hadn't been able to pick himself up from there, mostly because he had no idea _how_ a person picked him or herself up from a bad grade. Of course, he had wound up failing the class, mainly because he preferred activities like going to parties to studying for the one class it was necessary for.

So here he was, in the second month of his second attempt at taking biology, and he could feel that he was slipping down the same slope as before. He desperately needed to start studying, but he didn't even know where to begin. The logical thing, of course, would be to go to his girlfriend. Eric was dating Vanessa, a girl a year older than him who was interning as Mr. Porter's class assistant. She had aced Mr. Porter's class with flying colors her own sophomore year and seemed to have a knack for all things scientific. She seemed to be the number one option for homework help. But Eric was too proud for that. It wasn't just the fact that Vanessa was his girlfriend—no, that wasn't it, not exactly anyway. It was the fact that Eric had put on this act from the first time they meant. He had acted like this stuff was easy for him—child's play. He had kept up that act consistently. It wasn't as if they spent any time outside of class discussing biology-related things, so his secret seemed pretty safe. But that also meant he couldn't ask for her help—then she would know he had been lying.

As he tapped his pen against the desk, he looked around at the other students in the class, sitting at their lab desks. Mr. Porter asked a question, and one girl's hand shot up. Eric didn't know her, but he knew her name was Ariel. She usually hung out with the same two girls, and they didn't sit anywhere near where Eric did. Eric focused on Ariel as she answered the question, sitting forward in her chair eagerly.

"Why, that's absolutely correct, Ariel!" Mr. Porter said with a chuckle. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

The girl beamed, her cheeks reddening a bit as well. She combed her fingers through her hair nervously. Ariel often answered questions in class, but she never seemed to be doing it to get the teacher's attention or to somehow impress him. She never gave that "teacher's pet" kind of impression. Instead she seemed genuinely interested in the subject matter, and had a natural ability for it, apparently. Eric wondered what it was about the subject that had piqued her interest, as he could find nothing to get excited about.

Eric gazed down at his textbook, staring blankly at it and losing focus. He was daydreaming a bit, certainly not paying attention to Mr. Porter's lecture.

"Eric, my good fellow, can you tell us the answer to the next question?" Mr. Porter asked good-naturedly.

"I, uh, well…" Eric said, looking around at his peers, lost.

Ariel caught his eye, and he was surprised to see her gesturing the page number to him. Not one to reject a hint, he quickly flipped open his book to the page she indicated. She then mouthed, "question four" while holding up four fingers. Eric gave her a small nod of appreciation before looking down at the problem in his book. He cleared his throat and read the question, something about cells or... something, it was all gibberish to him... followed by the four multiple choice answers.

"Yes, Eric, that _is_ the question," Mr. Porter said. "Would you happen to know the answer?"

"Um, sure, let me just..."

He looked desperately up at his helper, and luckily she was there to come to his rescue, holding her hand in the shape of a letter "C" to indicate the correct answer. Eric gave her another appreciative nod.

"C," Eric said. "The answer is, C... cy-cyto—"

"Cytoplasm," Mr. Porter filled in.

"Yeah," Eric said. "That."

Mr. Porter nodded and moved along. Eric hoped Vanessa had not noticed that Ariel had been feeding him the answers. He glanced over at her, but she didn't really seem focused on the class activities at all right now. She was reading through some papers and seemed very focused on the work she was doing. Eric was thankful for that.

After class, Eric chased after Ariel in the hallway. She was walking with her two friends from class. Eric grabbed her arm gently to get her attention. She looked at him, startled.

"Oh! Eric—hi! I... I didn't expect..." she looked to her friends. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Thank you so much," Eric said. "What you did today in class—you didn't have to, but I'm so glad you did. You're a life saver."

"Oh... it was nothing," Ariel said with a shy smile. "It was really the only decent thing to do."

"I wanted you to know I appreciate it, either way," Eric said, nodding. "And... I was wondering. Maybe you'd like to study together sometime? It's just... I'm not very good at bio, and you seem to really know your stuff."

"I'm really not all that..." Ariel looked away.

"No need to be modest," Eric said. "Meet me in the parking lot after last block?"

"Okay," Ariel said, nodding.

"See you then," Eric gave her a little salute and let her run off to her next class.

* * *

"Couldn't you have just asked Vanessa for help?"

Ariel and Eric were sitting in his living room, biology material spread across the coffee table as they sat on the couch together. They had been studying for about an hour and a half when Ariel finally asked that question that she had probably been wondering the entire time. Eric looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment or two.

"I'm sorry, that was completely... I didn't mean to pry. I shouldn't have asked," Ariel said, shaking her head.

"No, it's okay," Eric said. "It's just a bit embarrassing, I guess... See, when I first met Vanessa in the class... I pretended I got it so she wouldn't think I was an idiot or something. I don't know what I was thinking. I just figured if I acted like this smart guy—more on her level—she would be interested in me. I guess it sort of worked."

"Well I'm sure she wouldn't _actually_ think you were an idiot if you told her the truth," Ariel said, though Eric thought she sounded a bit unsure—as though she didn't even quite believe those words that she was saying.

"Oh, I'm sure she _would_ think that, actually," Eric said.

"She sounds like a pretty terrible person," Ariel said, then quickly caught herself. "Wow, I don't know where that came from... That was really rude, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Eric said—he couldn't really fault her for it because he couldn't really dispute it.

"Either way, your secret is safe with me," Ariel assured Eric. "Vanessa looks right through me, so it's not like I could even tell her if I wanted to. Not... that I want to, anyway."

"Thanks," Eric said, nodding.

There was a pause, an awkward silence.

"You don't… seem very happy," Ariel said. "Just an observation."

Eric looked at her for a moment, and then turned back to the biology book and the material they were studying, hoping Ariel would drop it. She did. Soon after the sky began to darken, Eric drove Ariel home. She sat in the passenger seat in her driveway. Eric seemed to lean over towards Ariel as he spoke.

"Thanks," he said. "You were really helpful with all the biology stuff. I feel like maybe I'm finally starting to get it."

"I'm glad," Ariel said, leaning forward ever so slightly. "I know you're capable of it, and I'd hate to see you do badly."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint you," Eric said, his arm resting on the console now. "So I'll be sure to do my very best."

What was he doing? It was a question his mind was screaming right this minute. Every primal instinct in him was urging him to kiss her, but his mind knew better. He knew it was wrong. He was seeing Vanessa, and if he kissed Ariel now he'd be being untrue to her. He was a lot of things, but he'd never been a cheater, and he wasn't the cheating type, anyway. Still, the way Ariel ran her fingers nervously through her startlingly red-hair, the way her eyelashes fluttered when she blinked inquisitively at him, the way her lips parted slowly into a dazzling smile—it all drove him a little mad, in the best way possible. It was a fairly sudden development and a sudden realization. He could smell her faint nautical perfume. She was so close now, he could move his arm a couple of inches and it would be brushing hers. What he really wanted to do was to reach over and kiss her, tangling his fingers up in her soft tresses, feeling those eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and parting those lips himself.

Instead, he reached across Ariel's lap and pushed open the passenger side door. He saw the look of disappointment flash across her face, and he knew what it meant. She had been expecting the kiss as much as he'd wanted to give it. But it just wasn't right, and they both knew it.

"We should do this again sometime," he said, forcing a smile.

"Yeah," Ariel said, her own wry smile not hiding her disappointment.

"Goodnight, Ariel," Eric said as she stepped out of the car.

"'Night, Eric," she said, closing the car door.

He couldn't help but watch as she walked up the front steps and let herself into the house. He told himself he was just making sure she got inside safely—but what was there to be unsafe from in this neighborhood? Ariel lived in a palatial residence in an upscale neighborhood by the lake on the north side of town. There was no crime here, especially with the tall wrought iron gates that surrounded the property. Eric sighed as he backed the car out of the driveway. _Ariel_. Even her name was beautiful. He shouldn't have said her name, he thought. Now he couldn't get her out of his mind.

* * *

Eric pulled into the driveway at home, shut off the engine and got out of the car. No sooner had he stepped a foot out of the car than he heard his name being called. He looked around and saw his next door neighbor, a gangly little boy two years younger than Eric, coming across the lawn toward him.

"Hey!" Eric greeted him with a pat on the back. "Mowgli, what's up?"

"Oh, I was just coming over to warn you," Mowgli said, standing up straight with some force.

"Warn me?" Eric raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, your, uh, lady friend stopped by," Mowgli said. "She's inside—just thought you should know, she looked like she was in a little bit of a huff."

"Well, thanks for the warning, little man," Eric gave him a warm shoulder squeeze. "I haven't seen you around much, though—how about you? Have you got a—'lady friend'?"

"Oh… no," Mowgli said, but he shuffled his feet a little and gave a soft chuckle, his gaze pointed downward.

"But there _is _a lady in your life," Eric said with a smirk. "Well, good luck with her—but don't let her tie you down before you're sure."

Eric gave the boy a reassuring wink and headed towards the house. He wished someone could give _him _a reassuring wink. He had no idea what Vanessa was mad about this time—frankly, it could be anything. It didn't even have to be about Eric, she would take it out on him. She was just a generally angry soul. Eric wished he had known that before they started dating, but he did sort of jump into it without much forethought. Vanessa was hot. He was a hormonal teenage boy. It wasn't a difficult equation. He just wished he had noticed Ariel before. Maybe it was just the novelty—maybe it would wear off. But right now, Ariel was definitely looking a lot hotter than Vanessa. Plus she was kind, or at least she seemed to be so far. While Vanessa had not been quite so openly rude at first, she had at least never shown Eric any particular kindness. Come to think of it, he had paid for all their dates, driven them everywhere, taken care of all the plans…

And here was Vanessa, standing in the foyer with her hands on her hips.

"And where were you?" she asked, tapping a foot impatiently on the ground.

"I was bringing a friend home," Eric said defensively, throwing his arms out a little. "Is that a _crime_?"

"A _friend_?" Vanessa emphasized the word. "Was this a _female _friend?"

"As a matter of fact, it was," Eric said, shrugging. "So what?"

Vanessa's face was turning red now. This was a bit different from usual. Eric knew her to be the short-tempered type, but usually she was pretty level-headed when doling out the lists upon lists of things that Eric was doing wrong. Now she seemed like she was about to lose her cool, and Eric was pretty sure he did not want to see what that looked like.

"Was that female… _Ariel_?" Vanessa asked through gritted teeth.

"What the fuck?" Eric sputtered, unable to control his own language. "How would you even… have you been _spying _on me or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Vanessa spat. "I was simply coming by to see you—a girl _can _come by to visit her boyfriend, can't she? And I saw you walking inside with that little… that silly little… Well. Anyway, I decided I would come back later and see what that was all about."

"We were literally just studying together, Vanessa," Eric sighed, exasperated. "I don't get what the big deal is."

"She's a _sophomore_," Vanessa twisted her face up. "What could you possibly have to learn from her? The only sophomore class you're in is biology, and you do just fine in that. Plus if you didn't—you have _me_, so you'd never need her."

"You know what Vanessa?" Eric said. "This is ridiculous. I don't need to be given the third degree just because I had a friend over—that's right, Ariel is a _friend_, but as it just so happened we _were _studying biology together, because I know that if I try to study with you, you'll just treat me like I'm some kind of idiot… third grader!"

"Why, I—"

"No," Eric interrupted. "You listen to me—I'm not going to do this any longer. We're through, Vanessa. Get out."

"Oh, I don't think so," Vanessa said, a sadistic laughing tone underlying her words.

"I didn't ask what you thought," Eric said firmly.

"No, but I think you'll be interested to hear it," Vanessa mused. "I can tear you down—right down to size, little Eric. Remember your place. I'm a senior. And let's face it, I'm a bit of a gossip queen. Enough of what I say is true that people take it as fact—and you know it. So what's to stop me from spreading… a vicious little rumor about you?"

"Oh, do whatever you like Vanessa," Eric said. "I don't care—my true friends know better, and anyone who believes your lies doesn't matter."

"Hmm, well," Vanessa tipped her head to the side slightly. "If that won't do, then I'll just have to tell some stories about your precious Ariel—see how she likes that."

"No!" Eric said involuntarily.

"Oh, I see—that's the sweet spot," Vanessa smiled slyly and nodded. "There it is then. I honestly couldn't care less if I never see you again—but if you tell a single soul that you dumped me… If you tell _anyone _that we're not seeing each other anymore… If you even _hint _at it, your little Ariel will be crying herself to sleep night after night with all the torment I'll rain down upon her."

"You're despicable," Eric said, gritting his teeth. "I don't know how I didn't see it."

"Oh, no worries, darling," Vanessa gave his cheek a sharp pinch. "No one does until it's too late. That's how I have everyone at that school under my thumb. So remember—not a soul. I have a reputation to uphold! Ta ta!"

Vanessa blew Eric a kiss and sashayed out of the house. Eric could hardly believe what had just occurred. Vanessa was off his back in a sense, yes, but he couldn't pursue anything with Ariel because that would be breaking his… contract with Vanessa. He could try to do it behind her back, but… it seemed sometimes as though Vanessa had eyes all over town. Maybe she did. Vanessa's mother was a wealthy socialite who was friends with all the local business owners, so it wouldn't surprise Eric in the slightest if she had access to all the security videos. But that didn't explain how she always seemed to know where everyone was and what they were doing in the privacy of their own homes. Eric shuddered. He almost didn't want to know.


	27. Mowgli, October 18

**XXVII.** Mowgli, October 18

* * *

Mowgli stood at the bus stop with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. It was starting to get chilly out—okay, perhaps a bit more than chilly. But it was only mid-October, and warm days were still a relatively common occurrence. Today was not one of those days. Mowgli had left his jacket in the house, not having checked the weather forecast and still stubbornly holding out for a few more days of summer. Goosebumps were prickling up on his dark, exposed arms, and he hunched his shoulders in a futile attempt to keep his neck warm. It was too late to run back into the house to grab a jacket—the bus could arrive at any moment, and if he ran to the house he might miss it. At the same time, the bus might be late, as it often was, and that would mean more time spent standing out here shivering.

Just as Mowgli was glancing back at the house and down the road, weighing his chances, a familiar car pulled up in front of him. He peered in the passenger side window as it rolled down, and saw his neighbor Eric sitting behind the wheel.

"Hey Mowgli," Eric grinned. "Want a ride to school?"

He didn't have to ask twice. Mowgli clambered into the car, placing his backpack at his feet. Eric was one of the lucky juniors who had a parking pass, and Mowgli was grateful for that right now. Eric's car was already comfortably warm and he had the radio on—definitely a more pleasant sound than the unpleasant din of screeching underclassmen on the bus.

"Thanks," Mowgli said.

"No problem," Eric said warmly. "You just have to tell me… Who's the girl?"

"G-girl?" Mowgli stammered, not expecting that question. "What girl?"

"Come on," Eric teased. "Yesterday when I asked if you had a lady friend, you got all embarrassed."

"Because I don't," Mowgli said. "Not yet, anyway."

"But you've got your eye on someone," Eric said.

"Maybe."

"Tell me about her, then," Eric said.

"I—I don't know," Mowgli blushed.

"You don't have to say who it is," Eric said. "Just tell me a little about her."

"Well," Mowgli twisted his fingers together. "She's really pretty and she seems really smart an-and… she's a freshman, too, and…"

"Do you have any classes together?" Eric asked.

"No," Mowgli said glumly. "That's the worst part. I never see her. Except in the hallways, sometimes."

"Well, you should hang out with her sometime!" Eric said. "Ask her to hang out on a weekend or something. You have her number, right?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"I've only talked to her once," Mowgli admitted sheepishly.

"Oh," Eric said. "Well. Try talking to her the next time you see her."

"I want to, but… I wouldn't even know what to talk about," Mowgli said, frustrated.

"There's plenty to talk about," Eric said. "You just have to overcome your shyness. Talk to her about… how about Halloween? That's something that's affecting everyone. Just ask her what her plans are, or something."

"Hm. Maybe," Mowgli shrugged—he was a little bit too intimidated by her to utter a single syllable at this point, but he wasn't going to admit that to the older and infinitely more cool Eric.

Eric pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. The two walked into the lobby and then parted ways, with Eric wishing the younger boy luck with his girl problems. Mowgli sensed that Eric's girl problems were a lot more serious than his own, but he knew better than to ask.

* * *

Third block was Mowgli's least favorite of the day. Ms. Drachen—well, Señorita Drachen was what they called her in class—was a horror. There were a lot of unreasonably callous teachers at this school, but she was among the undisputed worst. Ms. Maleficent Drachen was a tall woman with a pale face, wiry black hair, and a long, angular face. With her pointed chin and her high cheekbones, she might have even been considered pretty if the students could look past her unspeakable coldness. She consistently wore a dark pink lipstick and a light purple eye shadow that didn't exactly go together but of course, no one dared say anything about it in her presence. Her fingers were long and thin, her bones seeming to protrude at the knuckles, and her nails were always perfectly manicured to match her lipstick. She tapped the fake, pointed nails on her desk now, looking out at the students of her Spanish 1 class as they scribbled desperately onto the pop quiz sheets she had handed out. Mowgli was watching her because he had nothing better to be doing. He hadn't done the previous night's reading, so he was basically screwed. He thought maybe if he looked at Srta. Drachen for long enough, he might absorb some of the answers through osmosis. It was a silly notion, but it was more likely than him coming up with the answers by staring at the quiz.

Srta. Drachen suddenly turned and caught Mowgli's eye. He felt his stomach drop, but he held her gaze anyway. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it, but he felt as though he couldn't be the first to look away. That would be a sign of weakness. One side of Srta. Drachen's lip curled upwards into a twisted sort of smile, and Mowgli shuddered. Something about Srta. Drachen's smile always made him uncomfortable. Perhaps because he imagined the things that made her smile the most were probably things like dying puppies and kidnapped children.

"Time," Srta. Drachen said, not looking away from Mowgli. "Hand your quizzes forward immediately. Any quizzes not handed forward immediately will have ten points deducted, no exceptions."

Mowgli finally looked away in order to take the quizzes being handed forward from behind him and to strategically add his own blank page to the bottom of the stack. Whatever. Spanish wasn't even that useful anyway.

_I should have taken French, _he thought.

The French teacher was supposed to be pretty cool—though truthfully, anything would be better than Srta. Drachen. And his crush was taking French, so with a little luck he might've had it with her. Oh well. Hindsight is 20/20. He flipped through the Spanish book, yawning as he looked at the colorful pictures. He was aware that Srta. Drachen was speaking, but he couldn't be bothered at this point. This class was a massive drag. Suddenly he was aware of the sound of Srta. Drachen clearing her throat and the class falling to silence. He looked up, curious, and found everyone was turned to look at him, and Srta. Drachen was staring a hundred tiny daggers into his heart. He gulped.

"Wh-what?" was all he could muster.

"I asked you if you could _please _enlighten us by revealing the answer to the first question on today's pop quiz?" Srta. Drachen said.

That pissed Mowgli off. He knew that she knew that he hadn't done well on the quiz. She had to know from their little stare-down that his quiz was completely left blank. And yet here she was, tormenting him even further. He gritted his teeth.

"Could you repeat the question please?" Mowgli said.

Srta. Drachen made a little noise of disgust and looked around the classroom.

"Can someone please tell this poor child what the first quiz question was?" she asked the room.

A hand shot up, and Srta. Drachen called on the girl.

"Conjugate the verb 'ser' in the present tense," the girl recited.

"As simple as that," Srta. Drachen nodded, looking pointedly at Mowgli. "Think you can handle that?"

"I—I…" Mowgli felt his face burning red.

"Just conjugate the verb 'ser'—it couldn't be simpler," Srta. Drachen said. "We learned this in the first week, Mowgli."

"S-soy," Mowgli said—he knew that much, at least. "Um, er… eres?"

"Well, are you asking us, or are you telling us?" Srta. Drachen said, with her hands on her hips and her lips twisted as though she'd tasted something extremely bitter—Mowgli assumed that was a sign that he was answering correctly, but the way she was treating him was so unprofessional.

"This is bullshit!" he blurted before he could stop himself, then slapped a hand quickly over his mouth.

"What… did you… just… say?" Srta. Drachen seethed, leaning forward over her desk with her hands gripping the desk's edge tightly.

"I—I said, 'this is…' um, 'ridiculous'?" Mowgli stammered. "I mean, uh, r… really…"

"I heard what you said," Srta. Drachen hissed, and Mowgli imagined a forked tongue flicking out from between her teeth. "Now come up here and get your detention slip for this afternoon."

Defeated, Mowgli trudged to the front of the room and took the hastily scribbled note. He slunk back to his desk and slumped down in his chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

* * *

He felt a bit better about his fate by lunchtime—or rather, he had taken his mind off of it, for the most part. Lunch was definitely his favorite part of the day. He felt like he was starting to find his place in high school, and that was a refreshing feeling. He liked the group that he sat with, and he especially admired Peter. The boy was only a year older than Mowgli, yet he somehow seemed so much more worldly and knowing. Maybe it was the girlfriend factor, though Mowgli suspected that Peter had been cool even before Tiger had come along.

"So, I heard you caused a ruckus in Spanish today," Peter said as he took the seat next to Mowgli.

"You heard about that?" Mowgli laughed nervously.

"Only bits and pieces, but I want to hear it from you," Peter said.

"Oh, it was… not really a big deal," Mowgli said, embarrassed.

"That's not what I heard," Mulan said as she sat down across the table. "It sounded like you were finally the one to call Srta. Drachen out on her bullshit."

"Yeah, it sounded like a valiant act," Rapunzel, who was sitting next to Mulan, said. "About time someone did it—bravo."

"Mulan, Rapunzel, Wendy, and I all have Spanish together with the dragon lady so we're dying to hear it," Peter said.

"Well, okay," Mowgli said. "Basically she gave us this bogus pop quiz and then she asked me to answer one of the questions and… while I was answering it, she was sort of pestering me about it so I just said 'this is bullshit'—I… I didn't mean to say it, it just sort of came out. And then she gave me a detention."

"You are a legend," Peter said, patting Mowgli on the shoulder with a smile. "You remind me of a young Peter Pan."

"He's only a year younger than you," Mulan said, throwing a fry at Peter, who stuck his tongue out at her.

Everyone was stoked about the Spanish class incident, and everyone seemed to think a couple hours of detention was worth it to tell off the much-hated teacher. Even Wendy, who was usually so straight-laced, let out a few giggles as Peter quickly recounted the story to her. Mowgli suddenly felt glad that the incident had happened—proud, even. Here was Peter—basically his idol—thinking his story was worthy enough to be repeated. Mowgli never would have imagined when he first heard about Peter and his various pranks that he would someday be friends with him. Well—friends was perhaps not the right word, not yet anyway. Mowgli looked at Peter and wondered if Peter considered him a friend. He hoped so.

* * *

Mowgli walked into an empty classroom after school. He took out the detention slip and double-checked to make sure it was the correct room. He stood dumbly at the front of the room for a moment before a tall, lanky man with skin just a shade darker than his own strode in, muttering to himself. Mowgli heard him say something along the lines of "fuckin' hate Mondays" before stopping short, noticing the small boy.

"H-hello," Mowgli said.

"You here for detention?" Mowgli nodded, and the man set his things down by the desk and took out a sheet of paper. "Last name?"

"Jangala," Mowgli said, and the man gave him an odd look, then wrote a check on the paper.

"Sit wherever," the man said, sitting down and putting his feet up on the desk. "And try not to make any… noise."

Mowgli sat near the back right of the room. Other students quickly began filling in, all of them checking in with the grumpy-yet-apathetic teacher—who Mowgli learned was named Mr. Facilier—and spacing themselves out in the seats throughout the classroom. Some of the students were average looking, completely forgettable. There were students who even veered on the dorky-looking side, all round glasses and pocket protectors. There was one kid from the football team—he was wearing his jersey—who had long, dark dreadlocks. And then Mowgli saw a familiar face. _That _girl. He saw her look around nervously, twirling a finger through her blonde hair, and then take a seat on the left side of the room. Mowgli quickly and quietly gathered his things together and moved over to take the seat in front of her, motivated by Eric's encouragement and the ego boost of his small bit of celebrity from telling off Srta. Drachen.

"Hi Alice," he said, and she looked up slowly from the paper she was doodling on.

"Oh, hi!" she said, smiling one of her adorable little smiles. "Wait—don't tell me. Mowgli, right?"

"Yes," he said, embarrassed that he hadn't been as memorable to her as she had been to him, but glad nonetheless that she had remembered his name. "How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," she said. "It's my first detention."

"Mine too," Mowgli said.

"Really?" she asked, then quickly backtracked. "Not that—I don't mean to say you seem like… never mind. What did you do?"

"I sort of told off my Spanish teacher," he said, not wanting to put any kind of swing on it, not sure if she would be impressed or appalled by the story.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that!" Alice said, her face lighting up. "Way to go. I wish I could do that with Mrs. Tremaine."

"Is she the one who sent you here?" Mowgli asked.

"I fell asleep in her class," Alice admitted. "She sent me to the principal again, this time I came out with a detention."

"Too bad," Mowgli said. "Although it doesn't seem so bad here… Pretty laid back. And… the company's not bad."

Alice blushed, and didn't say anything. There was a moment's awkward silence before Mowgli felt the need to forcibly break it.

"So…" he said, then remembered Eric's words of wisdom. "Halloween! Got any plans for Halloween? 'Cause if not, you know, we could…"

He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at how forward he was being.

"Actually, I told my friend Aladdin I would hang out with him—do you know Aladdin?" Alice asked.

"We've never met, but… I know who he is," Mowgli said.

He had seen the two of them together around school, and had honestly been pretty jealous. He couldn't compete with Aladdin. Aladdin was a senior and all around considered a really cool guy. Mowgli was no one in comparison. Suddenly he felt like this whole thing had been a pretty stupid idea. He was starting to regret it.

"Well, I'm not sure what we're doing yet," Alice said. "But you should come along—I'm sure Aladdin wouldn't mind."

"Oh, I don't know, I wouldn't want to crash your… date," Mowgli said.

"Oh please," Alice guffawed. "It wouldn't be a date—it's not like that with me and Aladdin. Anyway, the more the merrier. Do you have a ride home?"

"No, but—"

"Aladdin's giving me one, I'm sure he wouldn't mind dropping you off, too," Alice said.

"I wouldn't want to impose…" Mowgli said hesitantly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alice said. "Aladdin won't mind."

There was a loud throat-clearing noise from the front of the room. Mowgli turned to see Mr. Facilier staring at the two of them, squinting angrily. He didn't say anything. Mowgli sheepishly sunk into his chair and Mr. Facilier leaned back and closed his eyes again. Funny that Alice could get sent to detention for falling asleep in class, and then the teacher would sleep all through detention. Mowgli took out a textbook to flip through to pass the time in silence.

When time was up, Alice insisted again that Mowgli get a ride with Aladdin, and the two walked out together. Aladdin was waiting, standing by his car, which was already running. Alice ran to him and he picked her up in a hug, swinging her around then setting her back down on the ground.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded, "Aladdin, I'd like you to meet my friend Mowgli."

Aladdin looked Mowgli up and down, then shook his hand, giving him a stern, serious look in the eye. It was like meeting a date's protective older brother—or at least, how Mowgli would imagine such an incident would go down from what he had seen in movies and TV. He had never actually had a real date, never mind one with a protective older brother.

"Nice to meet you," Mowgli squeaked.

"You too," Aladdin said. "You need a ride?"

"If—if it's not too much trouble," Mowgli said nervously.

"No problem," he said. "Hop in."

Mowgli got in the back seat and Alice took shotgun. Mowgli told Aladdin where he lived and Aladdin nodded to him through the rearview mirror. As they drove, Aladdin and Alice chatted about their days. Mowgli felt largely forgotten for the majority of the trip, until Alice turned to him, about five minutes from his house.

"Mowgli was the one who told off Srta. Drachen today," she told Aladdin, looking at the younger boy with interest.

"Oh?" Aladdin said, looking at Mowgli in the rearview. "Good job, kid."

"Thanks," Mowgli muttered, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"I thought that was pretty cool," Alice said. "I was thinking Mowgli should hang out with us on Halloween."

"Sure, sounds good," Aladdin said, although Mowgli suspected that Aladdin was only saying that to be polite.

"Here," Alice said, handing Mowgli back a slip of paper as they pulled into his driveway.

"What's this?" Mowgli asked, unfolding the slip.

"My number, silly," Alice said. "How else would we set up plans for Halloween?"

"Oh!" Mowgli said, feeling stupid. He gathered his things and clambered out of the car. "Yeah. Of course. Cool. I'll see you then, then?"

"Yup," Alice said. "Later!"

Mowgli closed the door and stepped away from the car. Aladdin quickly pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the street. He looked at the number in his hands, then crumpled his fist around it tightly. Yes, things _were _looking up.


	28. Tarzan, October 23

**XXVIII.** Tarzan, October 23

* * *

It was almost eleven by the time Tarzan awoke on Saturday. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't remember a time in his past eleven years of schooling that he had woken up on a weekend and dreaded the idea of _not _getting up and going to school. But today, there was nowhere else he could think of that he'd like to be. Sure, most of the day was still miserable and dull as always, but now there was a single shining light at the end of every day. Tarzan reached over to his nightstand and took the thick sheet of sketching paper that he had left there since he'd brought it home. The portrait he'd drawn of Jane was subpar at best, and he knew it. The drawing was not at all representative of Jane's true beauty, but it was the closest thing Tarzan had. Of course, he had gotten an A for it—after all, low-level art classes were always graded based on effort more than anything else, and Tarzan had never tried so hard on a school assignment in his life. Not only did he want to create an accurate likeness of his partner, but he wanted to impress her as well, especially after she had met up with him to give him extra help. He was afraid that he had failed in both those respects.

Putting the portrait down, he reached for his cell phone. Nothing new there. He opened the texting application and selected Jane's name. He hesitated for a moment, then decided it couldn't possibly hurt.

_What are you up to today?_

He put the phone down and mere seconds later, the text alert sounded. He thought it must be some coincidence, it couldn't possibly be Jane responding so quickly—but it was. He opened the text.

_I don't know. I was thinking I might go look for a Halloween costume._

He responded almost as quickly as she had, though he figured her typing skills were probably slightly better than his own.

_Mind if I join you? I could drive._

He paused for a moment with his finger over the send button, then tapped it.

_I would like that. :)_

Tarzan smiled and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He glanced at the alarm clock.

_Can I pick you up at noon? Or maybe 12:30?_

After they had hung out at Carioca's a few weeks ago, Tarzan had driven Jane home, so he already knew where she lived. As soon as she texted him back saying noon would be just fine, Tarzan quickly searched his room for something appropriate to wear. He wanted to impress Jane, but he didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, of course. After all, all they were doing was costume shopping. That was a friend thing, not really a date thing. But just because they were friends didn't mean they couldn't be more, right? Tarzan didn't really have much experience in this department.

In fact, he had no experience. He had always thought that those sought-after romantic feelings were just things for movies and stories and dreams. But then Jane had come along. He had been surprised to find out that she was only a freshman, because she seemed so knowledgeable and wise. Being around her made him want to learn more, to better himself so that she wouldn't catch on to how uneducated he really was. It wasn't that he didn't have the capacity for knowledge and intelligence; it was just that he hadn't really been exposed to any means of acquiring such things. He suspected Jane had had plenty of exposure to that growing up, with her father being a teacher, and she certainly had the thirst for knowledge that allowed her to lap it all up. She wasn't shy about her enthusiasm for learning, either, something that Tarzan found incredibly endearing when the "cool" thing was to act like school and learning were below oneself. Tarzan himself had even fallen into that trap in the past, but he swore now that he wouldn't allow himself to act like that anymore.

He couldn't deny that he had feelings for Jane. Strong feelings. Strong, _romantic _feelings. Feelings like he'd never felt before, though he didn't like to think about them in those terms because it just seemed so cliché. But that was the only way to really say it. He felt as though he always wanted to be around her. He saw her once a day Monday through Friday, yes, but that wasn't enough. He wanted to be around her as much as possible. He wanted to listen to all the little things she had to say and watch her draw and witness her enthusiasm for life. He wanted her to teach him things about art and science and the world. He wanted to go with her wherever it was that she wanted to go and he hoped that she would want him to go those places with her. But there was no chance of that, because there was no way that she felt the same feelings he felt for her. How could someone as intelligent and creative and as beautiful as her see anyone like him as anything more than a friend?

* * *

When he picked her up, Jane had on a white tank-top and a simple coppery-red knee-length skirt. Pretty, but casual, and typical of Jane. She usually wore skirts, but not for the purpose of showing off her legs or being provocative. Tarzan doubted she even cared about what anyone else thought of the way she dressed, she simply wore what she wore because it was comfortable. Anyway, she didn't have to try at all to be beautiful, Tarzan thought. She was always beautiful. Tarzan had gone for a simple brown t-shirt—one he made sure was not wrinkled—and some of his newer jeans.

"So where are we going, exactly?" Tarzan asked once Jane had climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

"There's a temporary costume shop in downtown Buena Vista," Jane said. "That's probably the closest one, so I thought we could go there."

"Fine with me," Tarzan said, pulling out of Jane's driveway and heading down the road. "So, uh… what are you doing on Halloween?"

"I don't know, I was thinking I might go to that girl Jasmine's party," Jane said.

"You know Jasmine?" Tarzan asked, looking over at Jane, surprised.

"Would that really be such a shock?" Jane asked.

"Well… yeah," Tarzan shrugged. "Jasmine is… hard to describe. But I wouldn't think she'd be the kind of girl you'd hang out with. At least not now. Maybe a few years ago. She's changed a lot."

"Well, I don't actually know her, so maybe you're right," Jane said. "I just heard that pretty much anyone can show up to her parties and it's kind of a free-for-all."

"Yeah, I guess that's pretty much how it is," Tarzan said. "Especially with the big event parties—her Halloween party last year was huge."

"I haven't been to any parties yet, so I thought it might be fun," Jane said. "But I'm not sure if I'm doing that yet—what are your plans?"

"Don't have any," Tarzan said. "But I was thinking I might go to Jasmine's party, too. She always invites the whole football team. I guess because most of us are on the same level as she is, popularity-wise… Well, not me so much, but, you know."

"You shouldn't care about what anyone else thinks," Jane said.

"I don't," Tarzan said. "Well, I mean, I care what _you _think, but… I mean…"

He quickly tried to think of a way to backtrack, afraid of how that came out.

"You shouldn't care about what I think, either," Jane said. "Not really. First and foremost, you should be who you are and who you want to be. And I'm sure I'll like that person. I think I already do."

Tarzan's mind went into overdrive trying to interpret that last statement. Did it mean what he thought it did? Did she like him just as a friend, or in the same way that he liked her? He suddenly understood why everyone stressed out so much about dating and crushes and the like.

"Thanks," he finally said after a few moments' pause.

"So, did you go to Jasmine's Halloween party last year?" Jane asked.

"Sure," Tarzan said. "Practically everyone did."

"Was it fun?" Jane asked.

"Depends on your definition of fun, I guess," Tarzan said. "I think it's something you should probably experience at least once, though."

Tarzan parked in front of the costume store and the pair went into the shop and started to look around.

"Do you have a costume yet?" Jane asked.

"No," Tarzan said.

"Any ideas?" she asked.

"Nope," Tarzan said. "You?"

"Not really," Jane said. "I figured I could find some inspiration here—it's pretty late though. I think next year I'll start planning early. I had a lot on my mind so I wasn't really thinking about Halloween. Here's an idea—how about we each grab a few costumes to try on and then we can try them on together and surprise each other?"

"Sounds like fun," Tarzan smiled.

The two split up and Tarzan searched the racks for interesting costumes. The selection was pretty picked over, but he was able to find three costumes to try on. He met back up with Jane by the two fitting rooms. They took stalls next to one another and shouted to each other when they were finished putting on their respective costumes. First, Jane came out wearing a black skirted costume with a high collared cape, while Tarzan came out dressed as "the Scream."

Jane laughed, "Is that even you in there?"

"And what are you supposed to be?" Tarzan laughed.

"A vampire, I guess," Jane said. "The teeth really make the costume, but I figured I shouldn't try those on. I don't know about this one, though. I don't know if I could stand wearing those teeth all night long."

"I don't think I could stand wearing this mask all night long," Tarzan said, pulling the mask off. "I'd probably suffocate or something."

"Next costumes, then," Jane said.

Tarzan agreed and they went back into the fitting rooms. Next, Tarzan came out in a black-and-white striped inmate costume with a silly hat and a ball and chain around his ankle. Jane was dressed as a police officer, complete with a dark blue hat and a gun holster. She laughed immediately when she saw Tarzan's costume.

"That's interesting, isn't it?" she said.

Tarzan smiled and nodded. Jane walked over to the mirror and looked at her costume in it, pulling at the skirt.

"It's shorter than I'd prefer," Jane said. "And I don't really fancy myself as a police officer. Let's try the next ones."

Tarzan's next and final costume was the most complex of the three, but also his favorite. It comprised a number of pieces, including a shirt, a vest, a belt, pants, boots, a hat, and a sword. When Jane came out wearing a matching pirate costume, Tarzan couldn't help but let a big, goofy grin spread across his face.

"We match!" Jane said, clapping her hands together in delight. "Oh, and this is your best one so far."

"Good, because it's the last one I picked out," Tarzan said. "I think yours is best, too. It suits you."

"It's settled then," Jane said, smiling and nodding firmly.

"Would you like to go to Jasmine's party together?" Tarzan blurted suddenly, his costume making him feel braver somehow.

Jane's face reddened and for a moment Tarzan thought she was going to say no.

"Sure!" she said. "Yes, that sounds very nice. Especially if we're to be wearing matching costumes. Yes."

Tarzan smiled and the two walked to the counter to check out. The clerk walked up and took Jane's costume first. As he rang it up, he looked up at her, and then at Tarzan.

"Hey—don't you two go to Walt Disney?"

"We do," Jane said, nodding. "I'm Jane, and this is Tarzan."

"Phillip," he responded, putting the costume in a bag and taking Jane's cash while he spoke. "I'm a senior this year, but my family just moved to Marceline so I don't know a lot of people."

"Tarzan's a senior too, but I'm a freshman," Jane said. "So I'm kind of new, too."

"Ah," Phillip nodded. "Are you two going to Jasmine's party?"

"Yes—we just decided, actually," Jane said. "You?"

"Sure am," Phillip said, handing Jane her change and her bag. "I'm taking my girlfriend, Wendy."

"Oh, I know Wendy—Wendy Darling?" Jane said.

"That's the one," Phillip smiled.

"Yes, we sit together at lunch," Jane said.

"That must be where I've seen you," Phillip nodded, then reached for Tarzan's costume, eying it. "So then, are you two…?"

"No, no," Tarzan said. "Just friends."

"That's cool, too," Phillip said, although Tarzan could tell that he didn't believe what Tarzan had just said. "Wendy and I decided not to do the couples costume thing this year… We both had ideas about what we wanted to be already, and we haven't been dating very long. But these costumes are really cute together, I'm sure they'll be a hit at the party."

Tarzan thought about reinforcing the fact that he and Jane were not a couple, but he figured that would only make Phillip believe it was true more. And anyway, it wasn't like he didn't want it to be true. And Jane wasn't contradicting it. Maybe that was a good sign. Tarzan was no expert, though.

He brought Jane home right after that, and they sat in the driveway and made concrete plans for the 31st. Too soon, there was no more excuse to keep Jane in the car, to continue the conversation.

"I guess I'll see you on Monday, then," Jane said, opening the car door.

"Yeah, see you then," Tarzan said.

Before he even knew what was going on, Jane leaned over and gave him a quick, sudden kiss on the cheek. She was out the door and into her house so quickly that for a moment Tarzan was hardly sure it had even happened. But no, he couldn't have imagined it, because he could practically still feel it on his cheek. He didn't want to get too far ahead of himself, but he was quite sure this could only mean good things.


	29. Phillip, October 29

**XXIX.** Phillip, October 29

* * *

As one might expect, the days leading directly up to the 31st of October were the busiest for the little costume shop in downtown Buena Vista. Halloween was falling on a Sunday this year, and Phillip was working at the shop Friday afternoon and Saturday morning. The shop usually closed at six in the evening, but for these final two days before the holiday, the shop was staying open until ten, and Phillip was working from three until close on Friday. After the holiday came and went, everything in the shop would go on clearance, and then the store would close and Phillip would have to go off and find another part-time job if he wanted to continue to have any gas or spending money.

Phillip drove right over to Buena Vista after school and arrived at the shop a little early. He walked in with his backpack and saw Nani Pelekai, one of his co-workers, sitting on a stool behind the counter with her feet up, looking at the screen of her phone. The shop wasn't very crowded yet, with just two customers perusing the offerings. But Phillip knew that wouldn't last long, and as Nani was only there for the morning shift, the shop would soon be all his responsibility.

"Hey Nani," he said, dropping his backpack behind the counter.

"Phillip!" she said, checking the time on her phone. "You're early!"

"Yeah, I beat the traffic getting out of the school parking lot," Phillip said.

"Hey, would you mind taking over a little early, then?" Nani asked. "My sister should be getting home soon, and I don't like having her home by herself for too long… She's fourteen now, but… she tends to get herself into trouble a lot still."

"Yeah, that's cool," Phillip said. "Let me just check in with the boss and then I'll come take over."

He headed to the back of the shop to the tiny office that the shop owner always sat in when the shop was open. He knocked before opening. His boss, Yzma Kulli, sat at a little desk, holding a mirror and carefully applying long, thick clumps of mascara to her lashes. She was an older lady with sickly looking pale skin and black hair. She was completely obsessed with her appearance, but her wrinkled skin seemed to hang off her bones in a rather unattractive way. Still, she didn't seem to realize how others saw her, and she applied heaps of purple eyeshadow and deep red lipstick along with the aforementioned mascara.

"Ms. Yzma?" Phillip said.

"Yes?" Yzma pronounced the word long and slow, clearly trying to keep her frustration at the interruption at bay.

"I, uh… just wanted to let you know that I'm here, and I'm a little early so Nani's going to head home now and I'll take over," Phillip said.

"Yes, fine, whatever," Yzma said, waving her hand in the air dismissively.

Phillip shrugged and closed the door. He headed back to the counter, where Nani was checking out a customer. When she was finished, Phillip took over and Nani headed out, thanking him. Phillip settled himself down behind the counter, grabbing a textbook from his backpack. He wouldn't have much time for homework, he knew, but he figured he would do what he could during this calm before the storm. Now that both the high schools of Marceline were letting out and most of the kids at Les Clark University were undoubtedly finishing up most of their classes for the day, the shop would soon be bombarded with last-minute costume shoppers.

By an hour after the beginning of Phillip's shift, he had no time for anything but work. The shop was bustling, and he was constantly either ringing someone up or helping someone find just what it was they were looking for. As he was picking up some costumes an obnoxious patron had knocked to the ground, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Wendy, along with a shorter, short-haired brunette.

"Wendy!" Phillip said, giving her a quick hug and kiss. "What a nice surprise—I thought you already had a costume?"

"I do," Wendy said. "But my friend needs one—this is Rapunzel."

"Nice to meet you," Phillip said, putting out a hand politely.

"You too," she said, accepting the handshake.

"I figured I might as well come along and pay you a visit," Wendy said. "You seem like you have your hands full—we can show ourselves around."

"Okay," Phillip said, smiling. "Just let me know when you want to be rung up."

The shop stayed as busy for several hours. Things only started to let up around 8:30. At that point, Phillip started tidying up. The place was basically a mess, and when he left, it needed to be spick and span for the next morning. If there was a single thing out of place, Yzma would surely throw a hissy fit, and no one wanted that. But Phillip also didn't really feel like staying at the shop too long after it closed at ten, so he started the cleanup now. By the time nine rolled around, the shop had cleared out. Everything was looking pretty neat, so Phillip was once again seated behind the counter, scribbling away at his homework, when the bell above the door jingled.

He looked up to see three girls enter—Snow, Aurora, and Ella. He hadn't been formally introduced to Ella, but he of course knew Snow and Aurora. He smiled and stood, putting his pencil down.

"Hey ladies," he said, getting up and walking towards the front of the shop.

"Phillip!" Snow said excitedly, skipping over to him. "I didn't know you were working here."

She gave him a big hug.

"Yep," Phillip said. "Just temporary, of course—but money is money."

"It sure is," Snow said. "This is my friend Ella—and of course you know Aurora already."

"Nice to meet you Ella," Phillip said, shaking the girl's hand. "And nice to see _you_, Aurora. What can I do for you girls?"

"Oh, we're looking for a costume for Aurora," Ella said. "Snow's already got hers."

"And what about you?" Phillip asked.

"I won't be needing one this year," Ella said, with a tint of sadness she seemed to be trying to suppress. "I'll just be handing out candy at home."

"Not alone, I hope," Phillip said.

"No," she said, brightening a bit. "I'll have company."

"And you two—are you going to Jasmine's party?" Phillip asked.

"No, actually, not this year," Snow said. "Prince's friend Kuzco is having a party, so we'll be going to that one."

"Ooh, college party—sounds like fun," Phillip smiled. "What about you, Aurora? Are you dating some exciting college boy, too?"

Aurora laughed, "No."

"Aurora has sworn off men," Snow said.

"Snow!" Aurora squealed, giving her friend a light hit on the arm.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Snow asked, raising an eyebrow at Aurora.

"Kind of," Aurora muttered, looking down as her face reddened. Phillip thought a change of subject might be in order.

"What kind of a costume were you looking for? Got anything particular in mind?" Phillip asked.

"I don't know…" Aurora said, looking around at the vast array of options—there were sections for all different kinds of costumes. Humorous joke costumes, intricate and expensive costumes for those who took Halloween maybe a little bit too far, costumes for guys and costumes for kids, couples costumes, and of course those short-skirted sexy costumes.

"I think Aurora wants to wear something sexy," Snow said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging the reluctant girl over to look at the array of nurses, French maids, and skimpy pirate dresses.

Ella stayed behind to chat with Phillip.

"What's her deal?" Phillip asked, watching as Snow White offered Aurora a few different costumes.

"Aurora's… dated a lot of guys," Ella said, watching her friends for a moment, then turning to Phillip. "I guess she's just sort of given up at this point."

"So she's been hurt a lot?" Phillip asked.

"Not really," Ella said. "I mean—a couple times, yes, of course. But mostly it's just been… that they weren't compatible. Nice guys, a lot of them—she even dated Charm before me. I think she just doesn't think there's any guy out there who's right for her. It's a shame, but… I probabl would feel the same way if it had happened to me that way. She just really wanted to fall in love, I think. And it didn't happen, so I guess she's kind of jaded about it."

Phillip nodded, "Well, it'll be good for her to spend some time being single, then. I think it's better to just let things happen, anyway. If it's meant to be… it will be."

"That's a nice way of thinking about it," Ella said, smiling sweetly.

"Where's the fitting room?" Snow shouted over to Phillip.

"Right over here," Phillip said, and he led the three girls over to the curtained cubicle.

He waited by the counter while Snow made Aurora try on a few different outfits. It was about 9:15 now, and the three girls were still the only patrons in the shop. The day hadn't been quite as bad as Phillip had imagined, but there was still tomorrow—he imagined tomorrow would probably be worse than today had been. Plus, by tomorrow night everything would be pretty picked over, and people would be upset about that in addition to everything else.

"Oh my goodness, that is _adorable_!" Phillip heard Snow squealing from the dressing room. "Come on, let's show Phillip."

Phillip heard Aurora's futile protests, but soon Snow was dragging her out into the main shop area. Aurora had on a short-skirted retro stewardess uniform. The costume was all light blue, with a scarf tied around Aurora's neck and a matching pill box hat. Aurora cringed and pulled down at the hem of the short skirt. Despite her obvious apprehension, the costume was very cute on her, showing off her lovely long legs. The color also contrasted nicely with her golden hair.

"Wow," Phillip said, his eyes widening.

"Wow?" Snow asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow. "Care to add to that?"

"Just… it looks really good on you," Phillip said, nodding his head in approval. "It really suits you."

"You think?" Aurora asked, looking down at the dress, then walking over to a full-length mirror.

She cocked her head at her reflection and adjusted the angle of the hat. She twisted her mouth into a contemplative expression.

"He's right," Snow said, walking up behind Aurora and putting her hands on her friend's shoulders, then putting her head next to Aurora's and smiling at the reflection. "This is the best one yet for sure. You should definitely get it."

"Hmm," Aurora said, biting her lip.

"I'm with Snow on this one," Ella said, adding her encouragement to the mix.

"Well, alright," Aurora said finally, but Phillip could see in her reflection that she was smiling and was only faking her lack of enthusiasm.

She went back into the fitting room to change, and her two friends went with her. Phillip went back to the counter and sat down at the stool. He thought it was probably for the best that Snow and Aurora would be at a different party than him, mainly because the costume he had bought for himself was a pilot's costume. Of course, if they wouldn't be seen together at all, it wouldn't be a big deal, but had they both been at Jasmine's party, people might talk. Obviously matching costumes was the kind of thing couples always did, and as Wendy wasn't going to be wearing a costume that matched Phillip's, to have another girl at the party matching his outfit had the potential for a social disaster. Phillip wasn't really interested in being involved in any kind of drama, especially since, being new, most of his peers had yet to form an impression of him yet anyway. That would not be a very good thing to start off with. The social mores of high school were exhausting sometimes.

The three girls soon came back out and headed up to the counter. Phillip rung Aurora up for the stewardess uniform, and Ella for a small pair of dangling skeleton earrings she noticed while she was waiting.

"Have fun on Sunday, girls," Phillip smiled as they were leaving, then added to Aurora and Snow, "Don't party too hard."

"We won't," Snow laughed and waved goodbye.

As they were leaving the shop, two sour-faced girls, one a brunette and one a red-head, came shuffling in the shop. When they saw Ella and her friends on their way out, they sneered at her and began to make unpleasant noises.

"What do you have there, Cinderella?" the dark-haired girl sneered, snatching Ella's little bag out.

"Hey, that's—" Ella tried to interrupt, but the girls just ignored her.

"Ooh," the girl who had snatched the bag said a she pulled out one dangly skeleton earring. "These would look lovely on me at the party on Sunday."

The red-headed girl grabbed the bag and took out the other earring, "Oh no, I think they'd look even better on _me_."

The first girl snatched the earring from the other, and stuffed both of them back in the bag, "_I'm _the oldest, so _I _should be the one who gets to wear them."

"Hey," Phillip said, stepping in. "Ella was the one who purchased those, so you ought to give them back to her."

The two girls gave Phillip a harsh appraising look, scoffed, and went back to their bickering.

"Hey!" Phillip said, not used to being ignored in such a way.

"What?" the dark-haired girl sneered.

"Give the earrings back."

"Cinderella would just ruin them," the girl said. "She's just a stupid, ugly—"

Phillip quickly interrupted, wanting to hear no more of this girl's insults, "If you want to stay in this shop, you need to give back to items you've stolen _right now _before I call the police."

The two sneering girls looked at each other, then quickly darted out of the shop, bag still in hand.

"Hey—!" Phillip shouted, stepping forward to go after them and retrieve the stolen item.

"Don't bother," Ella said, putting her arm forward to stop Phillip from going. "Even if I get them back, they'll just tell mother when they get home and then _she'll _make me give the earrings to Drizella."

"Those girls are—are you r _sisters_?" Phillip said, baffled as to how a girl as lovely as Ella could have come from the same woman as those two hideous hags.

"Step-sisters," Ella corrected. "And, technically it's my step-mother. But she still controls my life, and Drizella always gets what she wants."

"Well… hold on a moment," Phillip said, going to the back of the shop and coming back a moment later. "We don't have any more of those skeleton earrings, but… Take these. I know it's not as good, but I can't let you leave empty-handed."

"Oh, these are lovely!" Ella said, smiling at the tiny pumpkin earrings Phillip had put in her hand. "I didn't even see these ones—I like them even better. But I can't take them without paying, how much?"

"No, no, it's on me, don't worry," Phillip said. "My boss doesn't take inventory or anything, and it's not an expensive item."

"Thank you," Ella said, giving Phillip a hug. "I'll make sure they don't see these ones."

"You're the best, Phillip," Snow said, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek as the trio left.

After they had left, Phillip stood at the door watching them head down the street to Snow's car. He looked at his watch and realized it was time to close up shop. He finished tidying up, closing out the register, and gathered his things together before heading out, locking the front door behind him. Tomorrow would surely be hell, but at least today hadn't been half bad.


	30. Halloween, October 31

**XXX.** Halloween, October 31

* * *

Belle poured bags of fun size Reese's, M&Ms and Skittles into a big, orange bowl and set it on a coffee table in the living room. She sat down on the couch and looked around at her handiwork. The room was decorated with orange and purple streamers, and a motion sensitive electronic bat hung from ceiling fan in the center of the room. The lights were dimmed and she'd lit a candle inside a pumpkin she had carved that morning, which sat on the coffee table next to the bowl of candy. She had even set up a playlist of eerie mood music to play in the background.

The doorbell rang, and Belle leapt to her feet. It would be a few minutes still before the trick-or-treating began officially, so she was reasonably sure the person at the door wasn't a child in costume. She grabbed a cat-eared headband sitting on the coffee table and put it on her head, checking her reflection in the mirror over the mantle and adjusting some unruly hairs. She opened the door and found Adam, as expected, standing on the porch before her.

"Hi!" she said excitedly, hopping forward and giving him a big, friendly hug.

He put his arms around her waist and squeezed back. The two had been texting quite a bit since the day they had detention together, but this was the first day they had made plans to hang out outside of school. Belle's father had recently been working on a big project for work that had been taking up a large portion of his time, so she had promised to stay home on Halloween to hand out candy, so he wouldn't be distracted from his work. She had asked her father if it would be okay if a friend joined her, and of course he had said yes, so she invited Adam.

"You look lovely," he said as she let him inside.

"Really?" Belle asked, looking down at herself—all she had on was a black t-shirt and yellow skirt, and, of course, the cat ears.

"You always look lovely," Adam said shyly, not looking at her directly.

"Thank you," Belle said, glad he couldn't see that she was blushing.

"I like the cat ears especially," Adam said.

"Oh, it's kind of silly," Belle said, reaching to take them off. "I didn't have a costume to wear, so I just sort of…"

"No, you should keep them on," Adam said, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a fake mustache, which he stuck to his upper lip.

Belle giggled. After a moment, Adam broke into a smile and started laughing too.

* * *

"Cinder_ella_!"

The screech was almost deafening. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration, but it certainly felt that way to Ella. Sighing, she put her new pumpkin earrings in her pocket and went to find the step-sister who had called for her. She honestly couldn't tell one's screech from the other's. They were both so awful and headache-inducing. She found both the sisters In Drizella's room. Anastasia and Drizella had somehow obtained an invitation to Jasmine's big Halloween party—or maybe they were crashing, Ella couldn't be sure. So many people went to Jasmine's biggest parties, and anyone was welcome to bring along friends, so they were very easy to crash.

"How do we look, Cinderella?" Anastasia asked, twirling.

"Who looks _better_?" Drizella added.

Frankly, Ella thought both girls looked equally terrible. They were both wearing skimpy French maid costumes, complete with a little white apron, frilly headdress, lacy trim, and feather dusters to carry. And, of course, both were wearing obnoxiously obvious push-up bras.

"Hmm…" Ella said. "Well, I…"

"_Obviously_ she thinks I look better," Drizella said bossily.

"I just can't decide," Ella said. "I think you both look lovely."

"What a cop-out," Drizella sneered. "Well, come over here and zip up the back for me."

Ella walked over obediently, wondering why Anastasia couldn't have zipped it up for Drizella, but didn't say anything. It was a tight squeeze, but with a little work she managed to get the tiny dress zipped up.

"I wonder if Charm will be there," Anastasia gushed. "He is _so _handsome."

"You _do_ know that Charm and I are dating now, Anastasia, don't you?" Ella couldn't help speaking up—the entire school knew about the pair's relationship, and there was no way this news had escaped the gossip-seeking ears of her dreadful step-sisters.

"It won't last," Anastasia said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Charm just hasn't gotten to know _me_ yet," Drizella said, fluffing her curls in the mirror and pursing her lips. "Once I get a hold of him, he won't be able to get enough!"

Ella suppressed a gag. Knowing what she knew about Charm, Drizella was the opposite of the kind of girl he liked. Well, she supposed, Drizella was the opposite of _her_, and she was the kind of girl he liked. She found herself smiling in spite of herself.

"What are _you _smiling about?" Anastasia asked sourly.

"Oh, I'm just… imagining how it would be to go to Jasmine's Halloween party," Ella lied, knowing that answer would appease her step-sisters.

"Ha!" Anastasia said. "Well, you'll never know, will you? We'll be sure to tell you _all _about it when we get back."

"We'll take some pictures with Charm, too, so you can see his costume—since you won't get to see it in person," Drizella said, smirking.

"I can't wait to see them," Ella said.

The sisters finished getting ready, then hopped into Anastasia's brand new convertible which Mrs. Tremaine had given to her for her recent sixteenth birthday. Of course, she wasn't able to drive it yet as she had failed her first two driving tests, so Drizella was driving them to the party.

"Later, loser!" Anastasia shouted from the passenger seat, cackling.

"Goodbye!" Ella waved from the stoop. "Have a wonderful night!"

She didn't mean a word of it. She watched the taillights disappear down the street and around the corner. Then she took her phone from her pocket and sent a text message:

_They're gone. House is empty._

Mrs. Tremaine had gone off somewhere and had told Ella that she would not be back until the following morning. This had been planned for several weeks, but she had not specified where she was going at all, and Ella knew better than to pry. It did seem somewhat suspicious though, and Ella wondered if there might even be someone in her step-mother's life. But that seemed almost absurd. Mrs. Tremaine had tasked her step-daughter with watching over the house in her absence. Ella knew she had to stay. The house, being one of the largest in the town, let alone the neighborhood, was a prime target for teepeeing, and Ella knew she would not be able to clean up the wreckage in time should that happen. But she didn't mind staying here, as long as she had company.

She saw a pair of headlights turn on just down the street, and a car rolled towards the house before stopping right in front of it. Suddenly remembering, Ella took her pumpkin earrings out of her pocket and put them on. Charm got out and Ella ran to him. He picked her up and spun her around when she reached him, then put her down and she leaned forward and kissed him. Then he took her hand and they walked towards the house.

"Sorry I'm such a mess," Ella said, indicating her sweatpants, old heather grey t-shirt and her messy hair, pushed back by a thick headband and pulled into a ponytail. She couldn't dress up the way she would have liked to lest her step-sisters grow suspicious. Of course, they were both rather thick-headed, but she couldn't take any chances of ruining her night.

"What are you talking about?" Charm asked with a smile. "You're beautiful."

"Thanks," Ella said, slightly flustered.

The pair reached the stoop and Charm stopped Ella.

"Wait—it's such a nice night," he said. "We should sit outside."

He was right—it _was_ a beautiful night, especially for late October. It was crisp, but not too cold, and it was clear and still. The moon was full—or at least, nearly—and shining brightly in a dark, star-speckled sky.

"Hmm, okay," Ella responded, nodding. "Let me just get the candy bowl and we can sit out on the bench."

"Okay," Charm said, letting go of his girlfriend's hand. "I'll wait out here."

* * *

Jasmine bustled around the Evlahmenaultan household, preparing for her second big party of the year. She, of course, had parties fairly often, but most of them were closed gatherings of close friends and approved guests, such as the gathering before the big football game when she had disastrously tried to hook up with new guy Flynn Rider, or the pre-gaming before the Homecoming Dance…which had also ended in disaster. But all that was far behind her now, and this year's Halloween party was going to be just as awesome and legendary as the previous ones.

Her father, Waled Evlahmenaultan, was the President of an enormous mass media corporation, the Agrabah Company, which was why he was away so often. He loved his daughter very much, and trusted her, which was why he saw no issue with letting her stay home alone all the time. Jas was pretty good at cleaning up after herself and covering her tracks, and it didn't hurt that her father happened to be a bit clueless.

Jasmine brought all the drinks out from where she kept them hidden in her room. A couple of bottles of different flavored Grey Goose vodkas for shots, and several cases of beer bottles, which she packed into the fridge as best she could. Of course, she also had purchased several packages of red plastic cups, which she unwrapped and set on the counter. Jasmine headed to her room, passing through the decorated living room where the party playlist was already blasting through the surround-sound speakers.

Her costume was laid out on the bed, a cropped white blouse, plaid red and black skirt, and knee-high socks. She pulled it on and checked herself out in the mirror as she pulled her hair into two long, loose pigtails. She smiled at her reflection as she slipped on her heels and turned, making sure she looked perfect from every angle. Her hand rested on her stomach, and she hesitated for a moment, frowning. Then the doorbell rang.

* * *

Aurora was nervous about the party as she walked up to Kuzco's building with Snow and Prince, dressed appropriately as a princess and prince. Though Snow had been to a couple parties with Prince already, it would be Aurora's first college party, and she was understandably nervous.

_They're all going to know I'm still in high school, _she thought. _They're going to think I'm so immature…_

Snow looked back at Aurora.

"Don't be nervous," she said sweetly.

"I'm not nervous," Aurora lied, wondering if Snow secretly had mind-reading powers that she'd been keeping from everyone.

Aurora wondered how Snow did it. She was always so poised and calm, and Aurora had even more respect for Snow than she had previously knowing what had happened to her, what she had kept from almost everyone for so long. She had always had so much respect for Snow, but she had never known quite how strong the older of her two best friends was. After finding about what had happened to Snow and what had almost happened to Belle, Aurora felt like she had dodged a bullet when she thought of that date with Gaston that she had escaped from. With this new information, Aurora felt like another layer of meaning had been added to their friendship.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor of the building and walked to Kuzco's apartment door. Aurora could already hear the music pounding inside. She grimaced.

"Don't worry!" Snow said, taking both Aurora's hands in her own. "You look gorgeous, your costume is perfect, and everyone is going to love you. I'll introduce you to some of our friends. I know you'll like them."

She tucked a stray hair behind Aurora's ear and Aurora smiled.

"Okay."

Prince knocked on the door and it flew open, revealing a man in a red tailcoat with gold lining, tight black pants, a red bowtie, and a black top hat. He carried a long, fake whip that he didn't seem to know what to do with. He was certainly enthusiastic.

"Prince!" he shouted, hugging him and then turning to his girlfriend and doing the same. "Snow! And… who is this?"

"This is my best friend Aurora," Snow replied, smiling at Aurora and stepping aside.

"Aurora!" the ringmaster said, taking Aurora's hand and kissing the back of it. "Enchanté. Such a nice name. And what a nice costume! Welcome… to Kuzco's circus!"

He introduced them into the apartment with a flourish, stepping aside.

"He's a bit dramatic," Prince whispered to Aurora. "Loves being the center of attention. But he means well… now."

Aurora vaguely remembered Kuzco from when he still went to WDHS as being a somewhat narcissistic jerk, but according to her friends he had eased up a bit after moving on and growing up. Apparently college had made him realize that the world didn't actually revolve around him. Aurora imagined that must have been quite a shock. Aurora stuck by Snow's side as the two entered the party crowd.

"Snow!" a tan, exotic girl with white hair and a black witch hat pushed through the crowd to throw her arms around Snow.

"Kida," Snow said, hugging the girl back. "How have you been? You and Kuzco still a thing?"

"Nah, we never went on another date," Kida said, waving a hand and rolling her eyes. "We didn't have any kind of spark, we both agreed. But we're totally cool, obviously. And you are?"

"Uh, Aurora," Aurora said quietly.

"Oh, Snow's told me about you!" Kida smiled and stuck a hand out for Aurora to shake.

"She… has?" Aurora said awkwardly, not knowing a thing about this Kida girl.

"I met Kida on a double date, the night before Homecoming," Snow said. "We hung out a couple times after that. She goes to LCU."

"O-oh," Aurora said, then smiled at Kida. "Well it's nice to meet you."

"Come sit over here with me," Kida said, and led the two girls over to a couch.

Snow and Aurora squeezed together in the empty spot on the couch, and Kida sat on the armrest.

"So, are you seeing anyone new then?" Snow asked, and Aurora could tell she was already trying to think of people she could set Kida up with.

"Not exactly," Kida said, but there was a smile playing at her lips.

"But there's someone you're interested in," Snow said, sitting up excitedly.

"Yeah," Kida said, looking at the ceiling and smiling a goofy smile.

"Drinks, ladies?" Kuzco seemed to appear suddenly with a cup in each hand, both of which he was offering up.

"Not for me, thank you," Snow said politely, gesturing to Aurora and Kida, whom Kuzco handed the cups to.

"Thanks," Kida said to Kuzco, and the three watched him saunter off into the crowd of his guests.

"So tell me!" Snow said, losing her patience giddily.

"Well, he's… kind of my professor," Kida said sheepishly.

"No!" Snow said, a hand flying up to cover her grin. "Tell me about him! What does he teach?"

"Archaeology," Kida said with a sigh. "I'm thinking about majoring in it. It's fascinating—or maybe I'm just fascinated with him. Professor Thatch is his name. You can tell he really loves the subject… And he's very intelligent."

"What does he look like?" Snow asked.

"He's pretty skinny, lanky—he wears these big round glasses," Kida said, making circles around her eyes with her hands. "Definitely has a typical nerdy sort of image, but… he's also really cute. Light brown hair, kind of long in the front, like he could use a haircut."

"You _really _like him," Snow said with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," Kida said, smiling and sighing again. "It'll never happen though, obviously… Him being my professor and everything."

"You never know," Snow said.

"Snow!" Aurora scolded.

"What?" Snow said. "It's college… They're all adults here. It's not like if you or I had a relationship with a teacher."

"Still," Aurora said, still turning the idea over in her mind.

"If you're too scared now," Snow said, turning back to Kida. "Just think… He won't be your professor forever."

* * *

Esme pulled up to Jasmine's mansion with Phoebus riding shotgun and Quasi and Meg in the back. Esme and Jas had been close friends when they were younger, especially in elementary school. They were still friends, just rather distant ones. Jas still invited Esme to all her parties, both big and small, and Esme always took Meg along to the bigger ones. Quasi, on the other hand, had never been to a party before. Esme had promised to take him along on her Halloween plans, and she had carried through on that promise. Quasi suspected she was only doing it because she felt obligated to, but that was far from the truth. Esme felt bad that she had not included Quasi very much recently, but not out of any sense of obligation, but because she missed him. He was her oldest and best friend, even better than Meg, and she cared about him deeply. She hoped she would be able to bring him out of his shell tonight and help him to make some more friends. She wanted to show him that there were good people out there besides just her.

"You ready?" Esme reached back and grabbed Quasi's hand, smiling at him supportively.

He smiled and nodded, trying not to show how nervous he was.

The foursome stepped out of the car, all in costume. Esme was wearing a black leotard and matching skirt, along with shining pink ballerina slippers. She had pulled all her thick, long black curls into a bun, but a few loose hairs had fallen out. It looked as though she had done it on purpose, and no one really knew for sure. Phoebus, on the other hand, was dressed as a court jester, complete with bells on his hat and collar. Quasi and Meg stepped out of the back dressed in a knight costume and a long, light purple toga, respectively. Quasi wore a fake chain mail hood, a belt, and a coat of arms plastered to his chest. He had a fake sword sheathed in a scabbard that attached to the belt.

"So, Quasi, you gonna meet a lady tonight?" Meg asked in a somewhat monotone voice, indicating that she didn't actually care about the answer much.

"Well, I—I don't—" Quasi stammered.

"Don't mind her," Esme said. "She's just bitter about… everything."

Meg stuck her tongue out at Esme, and Esme gave her a look that dared her to deny it.

"What are you supposed to be?" Quasi asked as they approached the front doors. "An ancient Greek? A Roman?"

"A Greek _goddess_," Meg corrected.

"Goddess?" Quasi asked, looking over her costume.

"How do you get goddess?" Phoebus asked, looking amused. "It's just a toga."

"I'm a goddess _because I said so_, that's how," Meg snapped as the door flew open and they were invited in.

Meg immediately noticed that many eyes were turning towards the group, and a few people were pointing. She knew that it was because of Quasi, and she looked to Esme. Esme was looking a bit worried, but not doing anything. Meg figured she would probably be hovering protectively around Quasi for most of the night.

_What a drag, _she thought, and looked around the room for something else to focus her attention on.

Her eyes rested on Hercules. Of course, she should have been expecting to see him, but she hadn't really given the matter any thought. He was dressed as a soldier, and Meg found herself admiring how good he looked in spite of herself. She shook it off, looking away from him. She looked back at Quasi, Esme, and Phoebus, who were heading off in an opposite direction from where Hercules was. She considered following them, then thought of how much fun that would likely _not _be with Esme trying to protect Quasi constantly. She looked back at Hercules.

_Well, it's not like those are my only options, _she thought finally.

She headed through the crowd in search of a drink.

* * *

Alice bounced up and down excitedly in the passenger seat of Aladdin's car as they pulled into the parking lot of the local haunted house. There was a long line to buy tickets, but Aladdin had bought tickets for himself, Alice, and Mowgli ahead of time. Alice was wearing a bright blue dress with red trim and a white apron, along with red and white striped socks and a white bonnet covering a wig made of red yarn. She had red lipstick on and two red circles painted on her cheeks. She was completely transformed, and Aladdin wondered if he would have even recognized her if he hadn't known it was her. He had on a slightly less elaborate scarecrow costume, and Alice had done his makeup—all orangey-brown with a red nose. Mowgli sat in the back in a simple skeleton costume, feeling somewhat outdone.

"Ready?" Aladdin asked the two freshmen.

"Yes!" Alice exclaimed.

"Are you… scared?" Aladdin said, doing his best spooky voice and tickling Alice.

"No!" Alice giggled.

The three got out of the car and headed to the entrance to the haunted house. Wails, screams, and moans came from speakers hidden in the area between the gates to the house and the front door. Alice wrapped an arm around Aladdin's and held on tight as he handed the gatekeeper the three tickets and they went on through. She was grinning madly, and she was ready for things to jump out and try to scare her in the dark labyrinth that awaited them ahead.

"RAH!"

Someone jumped out from behind a bush and tried to scare them, and Alice heard Mowgli jump and make a little noise behind her. She giggled.

They entered the house and were immediately engulfed in darkness. Alice reached forward, groping at the darkness, making sure she didn't walk into something. Aladdin was doing the same beside her. They made their way through the first room, and into a slightly better lit room with a coffin in it. Predictably, the coffin burst open and a women sat up in it, screaming to try and frighten them. Mowgli was looking a little pale, but Aladdin and Alice just laughed.

They moved on to a room full of mirrors and walls with weird, yellow and purple stripy patterns. Under a blacklight, everything had a strange glow, and thanks to the mirrors, it was hard to tell where the openings were and which way they were meant to be going. They eventually found their way through, and the next room found them once again in total darkness. They moved through the room, finding themselves with no walls nearby. They felt around, inching slowly along, looking for some indication of where the room ended.

Then, something jumped out at them, and Alice felt it brush her as it made a terrifyingly animal noise and revved a chainsaw—or at least, made a chainsaw sound effect. Alice screamed in surprise and let go of Aladdin's arm, stumbling backwards through the darkness. She felt herself fall on what felt like a silken curtain. She quickly straightened herself back up, shaking. Feeling wobbly, she felt along the curtain and tried to find her bearings. She walked along until she reached a wall, then followed it.

"Al—Aladdin?" she mumbled shakily.

Moving along, she felt as though she might have moved into another room. It occurred to her that she wasn't sure if this haunted house was a single path or a labyrinth of different choices. She wondered if Aladdin and Mowgli had moved along on a different path without her, not knowing where she was. She heard something rustle.

"Who—who's there?" she asked.

"It's only me," a cartoonish voice answered, then cackled maniacally.

Normally, it wouldn't be frightening, but being alone in the darkness, it kind of was. Alice knew it wasn't real, but she was still frightened and her legs had all but turned to jelly. And then the chainsaw noise came again. Alice shrieked and began to run, despite the various signs outside that had instructed visitors not to. She kept a hand on the wall as she ran to guide her. She could feel that her face was wet with tears and she just felt silly.

"Aladdin!" she shouted. "Where are you?"

Then she ran full-on into someone, and shrieked, thinking it was someone working there as a haunt. Whoever it was gripped her arms with their hands and held her in place. She squirmed, trying to get away, breathing heavily.

"Alice, Alice, it's okay," they said. "It's okay, it's just me. It's okay."

"Mowgli?" Alice said, blinking at the pitch darkness.

"Yeah, it's me," Mowgli said. "Aladdin's a little bit ahead, I came back to see if you were behind us. We lost you back there, we thought you might have wound up ahead of us, but then we couldn't find you. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Alice said. "Yeah, of course."

Mowgli pulled her into a quick hug anyway, which she was glad for, and then took her hand to lead her to the next room, where Aladdin was waiting.

* * *

Ariel and Tiana sat together excitedly on a couch at Jasmine's party, each taking slow sips from a red plastic cup. The two of them had been talking in the hall at school when Jasmine had passed by, complimented Tia's dress, and nonchalantly extended an invitation to her party to the both of them. The two were excited about their first big high school party with mostly upperclassmen. Both were dressed to the nines. Tia was wearing a dark green flapper dress and had pulled her hair up and stuffed it into a bobbed black wig. Ariel had on a mermaid-inspired outfit, a green skirt that was shimmery and tight on top half and poufy tulle on the bottom paired with a purple bustier top. They looked around the crowd for a familiar face. Tia was the one who spotted Eric and Vanessa.

"Hey, there's Eric," Tia pointed subtly. "And he looks miserable."

Ariel looked. Tia was right. Eric, wearing a black and red cape, was standing next to Vanessa, clearly meant to be an angel in a white gown with wings and a halo. Vanessa seemed to be telling him off about something, but he wasn't even looking at her. He was looking at the ceiling, looking bored and pissed off. Ariel thought he looked absolutely miserable. She wondered why he didn't just end the obviously uncomfortable relationship, but recognized that it wasn't her place to say something like that. Their relationship had never been so publicly obviously strained as it was right now. Ariel was surprised. She watched as Vanessa said one last thing, then huffily walked off in the direction of the bathroom.

"I'm going to go talk to him for a minute," Ariel said, standing. "If that's okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Tia said, waving her off.

Ariel walked up to Eric. He didn't see her until she was right in front of him and began talking.

"Hey Eric," she said somewhat shyly.

"Ariel," he said, looking at her with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Jasmine invited me and Tia," she said, gesturing back to her friend. "Wait… what are you exactly?"

"I'm a vampire! See?" he pulled a pair of plastic teeth from his pocket, stuck them in and put on a forced smile.

"You don't look too happy," she said as he popped the teeth back out and put them in his pocket.

"I'm not," Eric said in a hushed tone, looking around at who was nearby, then pulling Ariel a little ways away from any other guests. "This is going to sound crazy, but… I tried to break up with Vanessa."

"And?" Ariel asked, wide-eyed.

"She wouldn't _let _me," Eric said, throwing his hands out in frustration.

"What do you mean?" Ariel said, confused. "She can't just say 'no.'"

"You're new, so you haven't seen what she's capable of," Eric said, looking around the room.

"So tell me," Ariel said, putting her hands on her hips.

"She's basically... blackmailing me," he said. "I don't have time to explain, she'll be back soon."

"Then speak quickly," Ariel said. "Give me the short version."

"Okay, she said she was going to make my life miserable," Eric said. "And I said… whatever, basically, I don't care. But then she said she would spread all kinds of rumors about you, basically ruin _your _life. I couldn't let her do that."

"So you're stuck in a miserable relationship to try to protect me?" Ariel asked, and Eric shrugged and nodded. "Well, I don't think Vanessa could ruin my life if she tried. If you weren't with her, would we…"

Ariel saw Vanessa storming towards the two of them.

"What do you think you're—" she began.

"I was just leaving," Ariel said, throwing her hands up in surrender before Vanessa could get another word in and walking back to Tia.

* * *

Naveen was sitting in the middle of a couch between two strangers, wearing an expression that indicated that he certainly was _not _enjoying himself. His girlfriend Lottie, on the other hand, seemed to be having a ball, wandering the apartment and socializing with college students in her short, form-fitting pink dress and sparkling fairy wings. The two were at Kuzco's party in Buena Vista. It had seemed like a good idea when Naveen had made the decision, but Naveen was somewhat regretting it now.

Naveen and Kuzco were pretty good friends from high school. They had similar life "philosophies"—if something so simplistic could be described with as lofty a word as "philosophy"—and similarly inflated egos. By some magic, they managed to get along without their loud personalities getting in the way. Though they hadn't seen each other since school started up again, Kuzco invited Naveen to his Halloween party and Naveen jumped at the opportunity. He knew Lottie would be interested, as college parties were, of course, believed to be inherently better than high school parties, and Lottie typically settled for nothing but the best. Naveen's motivation for coming here rather than the obvious choice of Jasmine's party was simply that here, there was less of an opportunity to run into Tia. As strong as his feelings were for Tia, he didn't want to ruin Lottie's night—and mostly, he didn't want to deal with the drama that would come along with breaking it off with Lottie. But it would have to come eventually.

"Shot?"

Naveen looked up to see some guy he didn't recognize holding a tray full of tiny plastic cup shots full of clear liquid. Well, the night wasn't getting any more interesting from sipping on lite beer.

"Sure, why not?" he sat up and took one of the little cups.

Meanwhile, Lottie was talking to Snow and Prince on the opposite side of the room. She had already had a glasses of champagne. It was her first time drinking more than a sip or two, and she was quickly discovering that she was a lightweight.

"But you guys are like, one of the cutest couples I have ever seen," she gushed, looking between the two of them. "Like… You are _legendary_. Everyone knows how good you guys are together, and oh my gosh you are the cutest. And Snow, you are just… like, beautiful, wow! I want to be just like you in a couple years."

"Thank you, Lottie, that's very—" Snow began, but was quickly cut off.

"I just _know _you're going to be voted prom queen," Lottie said, squealing and clapping her hands together. "I just know it! I can't wait to see the pictures the next day." Then a thought seemed to occur to her. "Wait—of course! I won't have to see the pictures. I'll be there with Naveen. How silly, I almost forgot my boyfriend is a senior, so we'll get to go to prom. How exciting! I should start looking for a dress…"

"Well, Lottie, maybe you shouldn't—" Prince began, but Lottie didn't seem to even hear him.

"Oh, I sure hope Naveen and I will still be together when I'm a senior," Lottie said dreamily. "It's so romantic, isn't it? I can just tell we're going to be together for a long time. See, he's dressed as a sailor because—"

There was a hand on her shoulder, and Lottie whirled around to find Naveen standing behind her.

"Hey Lottie, can I talk to you?" he asked.

"Naveen!" Lottie squealed, and threw her arms around him and placed a great, big, unwelcome kiss on his lips. "Guys, guys! This is Naveen, Naveen this is—"

"Lottie, I know Snow and Prince," Naveen said. "We all went to school together."

"Oh, of course—duh!" Lottie said. "How silly of me. I—what did you need?"

"Let's talk," Naveen said. "Er… Over this way."

Naveen led Lottie out of the living room and into the tiny kitchen area. It was empty for now. Lottie leaned against a counter.

"So what's up?" she asked with a smile, bubbly and cheery as ever.

"This isn't really… working for me," Naveen said.

"What isn't?" Lottie asked, completely oblivious to his meaning.

"This… thing we have, whatever, relationship," Naveen said tactlessly. "You're… really awesome, Lottie, I just… don't really have feelings for you. Like that. In that way."

"You… are you breaking up with me?" Lottie asked, furrowing her brow, finally beginning to understand.

"I'm… trying to," Naveen said. "Listen, I didn't want to…"

He reached forward and tried to take Lottie's hand, but she tugged it away and ran past Naveen and out of the kitchen.

"Lottie—" he shouted after her uselessly, then followed.

Lottie was pushing through the people in the main room, drawing all the attention in the room to the current situation. Naveen tried to smile it off, sheepishly, as he chased after Lottie. She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door right in his face. Everyone seemed to lose interest and went back to drinking and socializing. Naveen tried the door handle. Locked. He knocked.

"Go a_way_, Naveen!" she shouted

"Lottie," he sighed.

"Is it another girl?" Lottie asked. "There's another girl—isn't there?"

"Lottie, I—"

"Answer the question!"

"There is someone else that I like, yes," Naveen said. "But she isn't interested… right now. I didn't want to lead you on anymore because I think you… deserve someone who… likes you the same way you like them."

He could hear Lottie sobbing inside the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No!" Lottie shouted. "Of course I'm not."

"At least let me drive you home," Naveen said.

"No," Lottie said. "I'll get someone else to do it. I'd… I'd rather walk!"

"Please, Lottie," Naveen said. "Just come out so we can at least talk about this face-to-face?"

"Nope," Lottie said simply.

"Lottie—"

"Go away!" she shouted.

Naveen threw his hands up and finally stormed off, defeated. Kuzco, ever aware of the vibe at _his_ party, watched as Naveen walked out of the apartment. Even if no one else was paying attention, Kuzco knew all the drama that went down at his get-togethers. He could never have someone going off and saying they had a bad time at one of his parties. He had a reputation to uphold. He walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"I said _go away_!" Lottie repeated.

"Whoa, whoa, little lady," Kuzco said. "It's not your boyfriend knocking, it's your host—Kuzco."

"Ex-boyfriend," Lottie corrected him through sobs.

"Well, I'm sorry that had to happen to you tonight," Kuzco said. "Mind letting me into my bathroom?"

After a few moments' pause, he heard the lock click. He opened the door and found Lottie walking over to the bath to sit on the edge of the tub. He closed the door behind himself and locked it again so no one else would walk in looking to use the facilities. He walked over and sat in front of Lottie on the ground.

"So," he said. "Tell Kuzco what happened."

"I—I don't even _know_," Lottie said, hiccupping. "Everything was fine, and then… and then Naveen was telling me he doesn't have feelings for me and all these things, and… and that he likes some other girl, and, and…"

"Well, you know what, Lottie—it's Lottie, right?"

"Uh-huh," Lottie nodded, wiping at her face with the hem of her dress.

"I think you could do a lot better than Naveen," he said.

"You—you think?" Lottie asked, brightening just a little.

"Yeah!" Kuzco said enthusiastically, standing and moving to sit beside Lottie on the edge of the tub so he could put a hand on her shoulder supportively. "You are a beautiful, fun young lady and I think any guy would be lucky to have you. But you deserve better than just any old guy. You deserve a guy who will treat you like… like the princess you are! You deserve a prince—no, a king!"

He reached for a box of tissues that was sitting on top of the toilet and handed the box to Lottie. She took a tissue and dabbed the tears from under her eyes.

"Do you know anyone like that?" she asked, a smile beginning to appear.

"You know, I just might."

* * *

A rare ballad had come on on Jasmine's party playlist, and Phillip and Wendy were taking the opportunity, along with a number of other couples, to slow dance together. They wrapped their arms around each other and leaned in. Wendy rested her head on Phillip's shoulder. Phillip had his pilot uniform on, and Wendy was dressed as a nurse. Neither of them seemed to really be into the atmosphere of the party. Each had had a single drink and no intentions of having another.

"You seem like you're somewhere else," Phillip said quietly so only Wendy could hear.

She heard him, but she didn't respond. They both knew it was true. Wendy's mind was elsewhere. Phillip was a wonderful tutor and a wonderful friend. But when he kissed her, she didn't feel any kind of special spark or excitement. The first couple of times they had kissed, it had been special. She had never kissed anyone romantically before Phillip, so of course it had been exciting. But beyond that, she knew that she didn't have feelings for Phillip in any way near the way she had feelings for Peter. She did feel like she was beginning to get past the whole Peter thing—to move on—but she wasn't one hundred percent there yet. It was going to take a bit of time, and she knew now that dating Phillip was not the way there. She just didn't know how to bring it up.

"You like someone else," Phillip said. "You have this whole time. Right?"

"Yes," Wendy sighed, not lifting her head from Phillip's shoulder. "But I don't have a chance with him. I've been trying to get over it. And… I certainly think you're cute, so I thought… why not? I thought something might happen."

"Well," Phillip said, stroking Wendy's hair. "I am attracted to you, Wendy… but I'm beginning to realize that I see you as more of a friend than anything else."

Wendy lifted her head so they were face to face.

"I feel the same way," she confessed, her voice full of relief.

"How about this, then…" Phillip said. "Let's enjoy this night as best we can… But I think we can agree that we should officially consider ourselves as nothing more than friends from here on out."

"Agreed," Wendy said with a nod.

The song ended and the music took a turn for the upbeat. Wendy and Phillip moved away from one another slightly, then Phillip began to dance enthusiastically. Wendy laughed for a moment before taking his hand and joining him.

* * *

In the front yard of the Tremaine mansion was a relatively large garden which Ella, of course, maintained. The garden spread along the front of the house on either side of the stoop and front door. Off to the right side, in front of some large bushes, was a stone bench. That was where Ella and Charm sat now. They sat holding hands with their fingers entwined and the bowl of candy next to Ella. All the lights were on in the yard and on the front of the house, so occasionally a family or a couple of older children would wander up the pathway in search of candy.

Two children were bounding up the pathway now, pushing each other as they went. One was skinny and a little bit taller than the other, dressed in teal, and the other, dressed in purple, was slightly shorter and a bit chubby, but neither seemed to have the advantage over the other. Ella released her hand from Charm's and picked the bowl up, standing.

"Now kids, no need to be so rowdy," she said. "There's plenty here for the both of you."

The kids stopped pushing, looked at each other for a moment, then stared at Ella blankly. She laughed and shook her head, then held the bowl out. The kids stepped forward warily, and each grabbed a single piece of candy, then looked at Ella questioningly.

"Well, go on," Ella said. "There's more here than I'll ever need."

The kids smiled twin grins then began to grab handfuls to stuff in the pillowcases they carried. Ella looked back at Charm, who was smiling at her. He had already commented earlier on how impressive her skills with children were. She had retorted with a remark about how she basically lived with two of them anyway. Charm had laughed, and Ella felt immediately bad about the comment, but Charm told her she had no reason to, as it was an entirely accurate observation.

"Now, now, that's enough," Ella said, pulling the bowl back gently. "I might get a couple more visitors tonight."

"Well, well, what have we here?" an adult voice came down the path.

Ella looked up to find a familiar man strolling down the path. These kids must be under his charge. The man was tall and pale with a long face and had fluffy hair that stuck straight up. He had died it blue in what Ella could only imagine was some kind of mid-life crisis. She didn't know him all that well, but she knew he was a neighbor and an acquaintance of her mother's.

"Mr. Touolympou," she said as politely as she could manage.

"Oh, please, Ella, dear," he waved a hand through the air. "Mr. Touolympou is my brother. Call me Hades."

"Hades," Ella said uneasily. "Are these two… yours?"

Ella realized she knew next to nothing about Hades. She knew which house he lived in, but she never saw anyone but him going in or coming out, and she had never been aware of any other activity going on there. All she knew beyond that was that she had overheard Mrs. Tremaine talking about some local business that Hades owned.

"These two? No," Hades laughed and waved them off. "Little brats. No. Ha. Nephews. I'm watching them for the night."

"Ah. I see," Ella said, straining to be polite, though there was something about Hades that made her automatically uncomfortable.

She was beginning to feel that he was overstaying his welcome, standing here and making conversation with her. But then, it was Halloween, when you couldn't really turn anyone away, no matter how uncomfortable they made you feel. She had a societal obligation to stand here and make polite conversation… or at least, that was how it felt. If nothing else, she knew that if she didn't, Mrs. Tremaine would find out and she would never hear the end of it.

"So… Who is this, then?" Hades asked, peering around Ella to look at Charm.

"Oh!" Ella said suddenly, stepping aside a little. "This is my… my friend, Charm."

"Charm? Quite a name to live up to," Hades said.

"I guess so," Charm laughed nervously—he had obviously picked up on the uncomfortable vibes of the whole situation.

"Does your mother know that you have… company tonight?" Hades asked, smirking.

"My mother is dead," Ella said with a sudden uncharacteristic burst of anger.

Hades raised an eyebrow.

"Well," he said, in a voice that could mean nothing good. "My condolences."

He reached for the two children and put a hand on each of their heads, then turned and walked off the property without another word. Ella sat down heavily.

"I really messed that one up," Ella said.

"Why are you stressing over it?" Charm asked. "That guy was being a jerk. He didn't deserve anything better than what you gave him."

"I know, I know," Ella said. "But he knows my step-mom. He'll probably tell her about what happened, and that you were here, and… Ugh, she's going to be so upset."

"But he might not, right?" Charm said.

"What?" Ella asked.

"He might not tell her," Charm said. "Are they good friends, your step-mom and this guy?"

"Well… no," Ella said.

"Maybe it won't ever come up then," Charm said. "Don't worry too much about things that might not happen. Then it's like going through the thing twice. And if nothing ever happens, you won't have to go through it at all."

"That's an interesting way to think of it," Ella said.

"I think I read it somewhere… I can't remember," Charm said, then reached up towards Ella's ear. "Are these new? I've never seen them before."

Ella beamed, glad he'd noticed, "I got them on Friday. I went out with Aurora and Snow to get a costume for Aurora."

"They're cute," Charm said. "Just like you."

Ella smiled and leaned in to her boyfriend, looking up at the clear night sky.

* * *

Tia and Ariel were both a lot more sober than they had been expecting, based on the things they'd heard about Jasmine's wild parties. Instead of drinking, they had made a friend. Tia was surprised to find that Quasimodo was in her grade along with Ariel, but that he was not a new student. She had never met him before, which he credited to his uncanny ability to make himself basically invisible sometimes. The girls were completely delighted by Quasi's shy charm and had dragged him away from his friend Esme and her boyfriend to chat with them. Tia felt the cool breeze of the door opening, and looked up to see if someone was making a late arrival. Her face fell when she saw that it was Naveen. Naveen turned immediately to someone and seemed to be asking a question.

"I'll be right back," Tia said gravely, and walked towards Naveen, leaving Ariel and Quasi to talk.

"Naveen?" she put a hand on his shoulder and whirled him around to face her.

"Tia!" he shouted over the music. "Just who I was looking for."

"Outside," she said. "Now."

Once again the pair found themselves standing outside of a building with the muffled sounds of loud bass trickling out. Tia put her hands on her hips and looked at Naveen expectantly.

"Well?" she said. "Shouldn't you be off somewhere with Lottie? She would _not _stop talking about how excited she was about tonight. So where is she?"

"She is… well…" Naveen gestured, looking for a more delicate way of putting it. "We… broke up."

"You broke up?" Tia asked, raising both eyebrows.

"Yes, yes," Naveen said. "I thought you might be here, so I came, and I am quite glad I did because you look… very beautiful in that dress."

Tia looked down at herself, flattered for a moment.

"Wait, wait, wait," Tia said. "If you two had broken up, I would have heard about it. Something isn't right here."

"Well, ah…" Naveen tapped his fingers together nervously. "We… broke up tonight."

"Tonight?!" Tia was shouting now.

"At… Kuzco's party," Naveen said, now hanging his head a little.

"At another party?" Tia dug for her phone in her purse. "Where is Lottie now?"

"She is… at the party, I suppose," Naveen said sheepishly.

"You _left _her there?" Tia said, pulling her phone out and seeing that she didn't have any calls or texts.

"She told me to go!" Naveen said. "I tried to get her to let me to drive her home, but…"

"How hard did you try?" Tia asked, giving Naveen a judgmental glare. She realized her phone had no signal here—she wondered if Ariel was on a different service.

"Not…" Naveen sighed. "I could have tried harder."

"You bet you could have," Tia said. "We're done here, I have to go see if Lottie needs my help, since you weren't very responsible."

She headed through the door, and Naveen began to follow.

"Tia, wait, I'm sor—"

"Go _away_, Naveen!"

Hearing that for the second time that night, from a different girl, was striking. He turned to leave. Jasmine was standing by the door.

"Leaving so soon?" she said.

"Yeah, I have to go home now," Naveen said.

"Well, that's a shame," Jasmine said, stepping forward and putting a hand on his chest. "Because you _could _stay. After all, you just got here."

Naveen hesitated. On a normal night, as a single man, he probably would. But tonight was not a normal night. And perhaps he ought to rethink those habits, anyway.

"No… Jas, I _really _shouldn't," he said. "And you shouldn't either."

"Why not?" she asked. "I'm single. I don't have any responsibilities now. Why shouldn't I pursue the things I want?"

"When you put it that way… I really can't argue with it," Naveen said thoughtfully. "But I'm afraid I can't help. Sorry Jas."

He kissed her on the forehead and headed out the door.

* * *

It was getting late, and all the children who had been trick-or-treating were now back home and off the streets. Belle put the nearly empty bowl of candy on top of the fridge in the kitchen and then went back to the living room. Adam was still there, mustache still on his face. It had begun to slip off a couple of times throughout the night, causing giggles from a few visiting children. Belle switched off the spooky soundtrack and sat down on the couch next to him.

"I hope this hasn't been too boring for you," Belle said.

"No, it's been… a lot of fun, actually," Adam assured her. "Just being around you is enough to make me happy."

Belle reached toward Adam's face, then peeled the mustache quickly off and dropped it on the coffee table.

"There," she said. "Much better."

"Better?" Adam asked, a bit confused.

"Better for doing this," Belle said, then leaned forward and kissed Adam. He hardly realized what was happening at first, and by the time he had begun to react, it was over.

Belle giggled when she saw the surprise on his face—eyes wide, mouth falling open a bit. He almost looked afraid. She touched her fingers to her lips and looked down.

"Sorry," she said.

"N-no, don't be," Adam said. "Don't be… at all… I just didn't expect… I never thought you… Well."

"What?" Belle asked, looking curiously at Adam now.

"I didn't think a girl like you would ever even… look at a guy like me," Adam said. "Never mind feel _that _way."

"Why not?" Belle asked, genuinely not sure what Adam's meaning was.

Before Adam could answer, there was the sound of loud stomping feet on stairs coming from the other end of the house. A door creaked open, and the footsteps made their way to the living room and then Maurice Lumineux was standing in the doorway. He was a man of small, round stature with white hair and mustache. He threw his short arms up when he saw his daughter and her guest.

"Well, hello!" he said, his voice booming and jolly. "And who is this?"

"Papa," Belle spoke, standing. "This is my friend, Adam. He's in my English class."

"Adam!" Maurice said, bustling over to meet the young man, who stood. "Nice to meet you, my boy!"

"Nice to… meet you too," Adam said tentatively, shaking the man's hand.

"I'm glad my daughter wasn't alone on Halloween," Maurice said, looking fondly at his daughter. "I know she would've found ways to amuse herself, but it's nice to see her spending time with friends from school."

"Well, I … like spending time with your daughter," Adam said. "She's probably the smartest person I've ever met."

"Oh, don't—" Belle blushed.

"Don't be modest, Belle!" Maurice said. "She is a very intelligent young woman, and it takes a real man to recognize that."

"Well, I… think Adam was just leaving, actually," Belle said, growing embarrassed by the combined praise of Adam and her father. "Weren't you, Adam?"

"Oh, yeah, I, um, have to get home," Adam said. "Lots of… homework, you see."

"Focused on his studies, too!" Maurice said. "This one's a keeper for sure, Belle."

"Papa!" Belle said, wanting to cover her face.

"Well anyway, I hope to see you again, Adam!" Maurice said.

"You too, sir," Adam said, stepping outside. "See you tomorrow, Belle."

She nodded, smiled, and waved.

* * *

He had a few drinks in him—he actually couldn't remember exactly how many he'd had at this point—and now Eric was climbing shakily up onto the couch. Vanessa, not quite sure what he was doing but thinking he looked like he was about to make a fool of himself, tried desperately to pull him down, but he was strong and determined. And drunk. Her boyfriend's reputation had a pretty serious impact on her own, so she had the most important interests at heart—her own.

"No, Vanessa," he said loudly. "Leave me alone."

At that, she backed off sheepishly. Eric tried to bend all the way over to put his cup down on the ground, but someone apparently in a better state of mind than his own grabbed it to do it for him before he could make a serious attempt. He brushed some hair that had fallen into his forehead back and cleared his throat, raising his arms in the air.

"Can I have everyone's attention? Attention please?" he said. "Please. I'd like to make an… an annou—an important announcement, please."

His words probably didn't mean much at this point, but the severe point of his inebriation was enough to draw the majority of the room's attention. He noticed a blur of bright red hair towards the back of the room. He squinted. She seemed to be paying attention. Good.

"Okay, listen," he said. "Do you see this girl here?"

He pointed at Vanessa, who was standing next to the couch and watching in horror.

"Please, Eric, you're drunk—"

"Hush!" he said, elongating the shushing sound at the end. "This girl—Vanessa—you probably all know her as the… fuckin'… gossip queen of the school, or whatever. Loves to gossip, this one, blah blah blah. And that's fine, I guess. Who doesn't love a good story? Except some of it is _lies_. She spreads false stories mixed in with the true ones, so there's no way to tell what's what."

The crowd was beginning to chatter a bit, undoubtedly about what was going on right in front of them at this moment. This would be the talk at every lunch table tomorrow.

"Hey, hey, quiet, everybody," Eric said. "I haven't even gotten to the best part yet. So I started to realize what a two-faced, manipulative bitch this girl I was dating was—that's right'_was dating_'—you heard me. That was some past tense right there. So get out your Twitter and your Faceb—whatever, whatever. So anyway. I realized that and I said to myself, 'Eric, you do not want to do this anymore,' but when I tried to tell her that, guess what? She told me I couldn't! And she said she would spread rumors and shit about me, but I don't give a shit about that. And I told her that, and then she said she was going to make my friend's life miserable. And I couldn't have that. So I didn't know what to do, y'know? And then it just dawned on me. I could just tell you all the truth right here, right now. And why not? Who are you going to believe, me or her? I guess it doesn't matter to me what you believe. All that matters is that… I'm in love! And not with Vanessa."

The crowd made a noise of collective interest, and Vanessa shrunk back into the shadows in embarrassment.

"I'm in love with… with…" he searched the crowd and couldn't see Ariel back where she had been before. Then he noticed that she had made her way up to the front of the crowd to look at him with concern. "This girl! This one right here!"

He hopped off the couch and landed right in front of Ariel. She jumped back a little.

"Eric…" she said, looking at him cautiously.

"Ariel!" he announced to the crowd. "I love Ariel!"

Then he reached towards Ariel, pulled her to him, and kissed her. The crowd cheered. Vanessa seemed to have disappeared from the party. The kiss was short, and Ariel pulled away, laughing.

"You're so drunk," she said, shaking her head.

Eric smiled goofily, "That doesn't change the way I feel about you."

Ariel just shook her head and laughed some more.

* * *

Snow realized she'd lost track of Aurora in chatting with some of the other guests, and excused herself to go look for her friend. She finally spotted Aurora chatting with a slender handsome man with a nice tan who was wearing a police officer costume. He looked more concerned than interested. Snow observed the situation from afar for a moment. It was pretty obvious even from a distance that Aurora had had a bit too much to drink, and she had a drink in her hand right now. As she came closer, she picked up bits of the conversation.

"You seem like a cool girl and everything," he was saying. "It's just, I have a girlfriend, and I love her, so—"

"Aurora! There you are!" Snow said as she approached. "You look a little tired. Are you tired?"

"A little," Aurora said, unleashing an enormous yawn.

"Yeah, I thought so," Snow said. "Why don't you go sit in that chair over there near the kitchen, and I'll be right over."

Aurora looked at the chair then back at Snow, "Okay."

Aurora walked off. Snow turned to the guy Aurora was flirting with.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"David," he said cautiously.

"David," Snow responded. "I'm Snow. Sorry about that—and _thank_ you. I owe you one."

"Thank you? For what?" David asked, as Snow walked away.

"Just thank you," Snow said with a smile, as she watched a tanned cowgirl with long black hair walk up to David looking confused.

Aurora was sitting obediently in the chair, looking with interest at something on the back of her hand.

"Aurora?" Snow said. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

"O…kay," Aurora repeated.

"Alright, I think you need something to eat," Snow said. "Are you hungry? Do you want some food?"

"Mmm, yes please," Aurora said.

"Well, at least you haven't forgotten your manners," Snow said, more to herself than anyone else. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

She went into the kitchen and searched for something quick she could make for Aurora. She found a microwave dinner and popped it in to cook. She'd pay Kuzco back for it later. She grabbed a disposable cup and filled it with tap water, then went back out to bring it to Aurora. The seat where she had left her friend was now empty. She sighed and shook her head. She stood as tall as she could on her tip-toes, but she couldn't see Aurora anywhere around the apartment from where she was standing. She saw Prince standing nearby and went to him.

"Hey, can you help me find Aurora?" Snow said. "She's pretty drunk and I went into the kitchen to make her something and she wandered off."

"Yeah, of course."

Prince began scouring the apartment in the opposite direction of his girlfriend. Kuzco and his newfound friend Lottie joined the hunt and it was soon obvious that Aurora was no longer in the building.

"Come on, Prince," Snow said, her worry fueling her determinedness. "We have to go find her."

* * *

Aladdin pushed open the front door to the Evlahmenaultan mansion, not even bothering to knock. This was not a time for knocking, and no one was really going to care anyway. Alice and Mowgli were behind him, but were less ready to burst right into the house. Aladdin searched the crowd for his ex-girlfriend. She wasn't too hard to find.

"Hey, um, Jas, can we talk?"

"Aladdin!" she said with surprise. "I don't remember inviting _you_. Come to beg for me back, have you?"

She giggled and stumbled a little.

"Come on, let's go to your room and talk," Aladdin said, moving towards that area of the house but not wanting to force Jasmine to come along against her will.

"But I don't _wanna _talk," she said. "I want to… dance!"

"Jasmine," Aladdin leaned close to her ear and spoke seriously. "I think what I want to talk about is something that you'd prefer be kept private, so I would really like to speak about it with you _in private_. So come with me. Or don't, I guess, it's up to you."

Aladdin turned and began walking towards the direction of Jasmine's bedroom, and when he glanced back, he saw that she was following—she seemed to be a bit wobbly, but her expression was serious now. They came to Jasmine's room and walked inside. Jasmine sat on the bed and Aladdin leaned against her vanity. They both were silent for a few moments.

"Jas, what are you doing?" Aladdin said as gently as he could manage.

"Whatever I want," Jasmine responded. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"You've been drinking… tonight," Aladdin said, wanting her to confirm what he already knew.

"So?" Jasmine said.

"You _know_ what I'm referring to," Aladdin said, stepping forward slowly. "You should be thinking about the baby."

"What baby?" she asked, casting her gaze downward.

"The one—" Aladdin hesitated for a moment. "Wait, Jas, you know what baby… what are you—?"

"I had an abortion, Aladdin," Jas said firmly. "Okay? There. I said it. Thanks for your concern and all, but it is entirely unnecessary. Why are you even here?"

"Naveen texted me," Aladdin said, waving it off. "But that isn't important—you… you had an _abortion_? Without even telling me?"

"Why should I tell you?" Jasmine asked angrily, standing up. "How is it _any _of your business? It's not like you're a part of my life anymore. You don't get to have any say in my decision-making. I am a grown woman. I am eighteen years old. You do not get to tell me how to live my life, for better or for worse."

"Yeah, but…" Aladdin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The baby…"

"Might not have even been yours!" Jasmine filled in for him. "I don't know, you didn't know, Thomas didn't know, and now none of us will ever know. And you know what? It doesn't matter. Even if I knew for sure, I would've made the same decision. Because I am not ready to have a child. I am not prepared to give up eighteen years of my life. Call me selfish, but I'm just not. I've made a lot of mistakes. I'm young. I need to grow up before I even think about having a child."

"What about… adoption?" Aladdin asked, and Jasmine just gave him a look of disgust.

"Look, I made my decision," Jasmine said. "You don't have to like it, because in the end it's none of your business. It's my body. I get to do with it what I please, and it is not up to you to dictate these things. I have my reasons for choosing what I did, and I do not regret it a single bit. And I do _not_ have to justify my decision to you."

With that final point, she sat back down on the edge of the bed. Aladdin suddenly snapped to his senses and rubbed his forehead to try to push away the headache that was coming on.

"Christ, Jas, I'm sorry," he said, and came over to sit next to her on the bed. "Are… are you okay? I shouldn't have been so selfish about this. It isn't my place."

"You're right," she said, looking surprised. "It _isn't_. And… yeah, I'm okay... or will be. It wasn't an easy decision, obviously, but I know it was the right one, the best one for everyone. And tonight I'm just trying to forget that it happened, okay? Allow me that. It's not really your business, anyway. You weren't invited, and I'm not your property. I never was, actually. I know I did some things that were wrong when we were together. I lied, I cheated. I shouldn't have done those things. But you don't get to dictate my life, _especially _not now."

"Right, right, okay," Aladdin said, nodding and standing. "I'm sorry. I'll go. Enjoy your party."

"Thank you," Jasmine nodded as he walked out of the room.

He made his way back to the front of the house, searching for Alice and Mowgli. He found them with a short girl with long black hair in a racing suit, carrying a helmet. She was talking to Mowgli, who seemed pretty interested. Alice seemed to be getting ignored, and she looked a little ticked off at it. She seemed to mostly be looking at Mowgli and fuming a bit.

"Hey...?" Aladdin said as he approached the trio.

"This is Vanellope," Mowgli said quickly.

"Hi," Aladdin said warily. "I've never seen you. You don't… go to WDHS, do you?"

"Shh!" Vanellope said. "I'm crashing. Ha! Get it—crashing? That wasn't even on purpose. I go to Marceline High School, but I'd heard you guys had the best parties."

"What year are you?" Aladdin asked, looking a little skeptical of this tiny girl.

"I'm a freshman," Vanellope said. "But so are your friends, so…"

"Yeah, okay, um…" Aladdin looked towards the door. "Speaking of freshmen, you guys have school tomorrow, so we really ought to get going."

"Jas wants you to leave, huh?" Alice smiled.

"Ah… yep," Aladdin shrugged.

"Alright, let's go then," Alice said a little too quickly, grabbing Mowgli by the wrist. "Let's go."

The three headed for the exit.

"See you around, Mowgli!" Vanellope called after them.

* * *

Kida was on her way back to her dorm from Kuzco's party. She had stayed out a little later than she would have liked. She didn't care much for walking home by herself in the dark—hardly anyone does, after all. When she saw a tall, decidedly male-looking figure walking in the opposite direction of her, she kept her gaze downward and tried not to draw any attention to herself. As the man came closer, however, she realized that he was familiar to her, and she stopped.

"Professor Thatch?" she said—he was looking downward too, but looked up at the mention of his name. Kida couldn't believe her luck.

"Oh—hi! Kida, right?" he asked, and she nodded, ecstatic that he had remembered her name. "You're in my archaeology class—always in the front row."

"That's me," Kida laughed. "I really love your class. What were you doing out so late? Faculty Halloween party?"

"Not quite," the professor laughed. "No, I've been doing some private research…. I get really engrossed in it and lose track of time sometimes, I'm afraid."

"Private research? On Halloween?" Kida asked.

"I didn't really even think about it, I guess," he said. "Where are you heading? Did you need a ride somewhere?"

"Oh, no," Kida smiled, wishing she could accept the offer. "I'm just going to my dorm, right up that way."

"Well, if you'd like, I can escort you the rest of the way," he said. "It's always a good idea to have someone with you at night."

"Yeah, I try to, usually," Kida said. "Tonight didn't really go as planned. But yes—I _would _like that, thank you."

The two began heading in the direction of Kida's dormitory.

"So, what's your major, Kida?" Professor Thatch asked.

"Oh, I'm a freshman," Kida responded. "So nothing's set in stone yet. I'm really enjoying archaeology, though. I'm thinking I might even major in it, actually."

"Is that so?" Professor Thatch asked, beaming. "Well, I'm… I'm just glad my class could inspire that in someone."

"It's my pleasure, believe me, Professor Thatch," Kida said, then wondered if that sounded too suggestive—she hadn't intended it to. If it had come out sounding as suggestive as it sounded to her ears, it had gone right over the professor's head. "Anyway, I'm not completely decided yet."

"Well, if you want to talk it over with someone, you know, talk about the different options for archaeology majors and such, you could always come to my office hours," Professor Thatch said. "My email is on the syllabus if you want to set up an appointment, or you could just come in after class one day."

"That could be helpful," Kida said, stopping because they had reached the front of her building. "Thanks, Professor Thatch."

"You are most definitely welcome," he said.

She wanted to hug him, but instead they shook hands, and then Kida waltzed inside, stomach full of butterflies.

* * *

Phillip had dropped Wendy off at her house after a pretty good night. They left the party a little early because neither of them was really feeling it, but they had had a fun time nonetheless. But now, Phillip could hear his stomach grumbling, so he decided to drive over the border to Buena Vista to pick up some late-night food at Panchito's, the college town's 24 hour diner. There was nothing with quite the array of offerings at such a late hour in Marcelline.

Phillip was driving toward Panchito's when he saw a girl stumbling drunkenly down the street. He slowed down his car, worried for the girl. As he came close and was about to pass her, the girl fell, and in that moment, he realized it was Aurora. He pulled the car over just beyond where she fell, and jumped out. He hurried over to Aurora and lifted her off the ground. She was still conscious, but certainly very intoxicated. She didn't seem to recognize him, or even look at him. She rubbed at her eyes and groaned.

Less than a minute later, before Phillip had really had a chance to react, another car pulled up behind his. Snow leapt out of the driver's side and quickly crouched beside Aurora. Prince stood behind by the car.

"She left Kuzco's party and we've been driving around looking for her ever since," Snow said, nearly out of breath. "How did you find her?"

"I just… was driving by," Phillip said. "I saw her walking, and then she fell… That's it."

"My apartment's just around the corner," Prince said.

"Our cars will be fine here," Snow said. "Come on."

She began lifting Aurora, but Phillip took charge and lifted her into his arms effortlessly. Prince and Snow quickly led the way down the block to the building. Phillip carried Aurora inside and gently put her on the couch. Prince brought her water and Phillip helped her sit up and drink it while Snow cooked in the kitchen.

Aurora's eyelids fluttered and she seemed to suddenly focus on Phillip for the first time that night. She squinted and blinked a few times.

"Phillip?" she said, confused.

"Hi," he said, not sure what else to say in this situation.

"You're dressed as a pilot," she giggled, looking at his uniform.

"Yes, ma'am, I am," Phillip said, tipping his hat playfully.

"I'm a flight attendant," Aurora said, and giggled again. "We match!"

"That we do," Phillip smiled at her and gave her another sip of water.

"Where—where's Wendy?" Aurora asked, frowning now.

"She's at home, I imagine," Phillip said. "That's where I saw her last. We decided to just be friends… And tutor and tutee."

"Oh!" Aurora said, throwing her arms around Phillip. "Thank you! Thank you."

"For…" Phillip began, then saw Snow mouthing "just say 'you're welcome.'" "Oh, you're… you're welcome, Aurora. You're welcome."

She let him go and smiled, then leaned back on the couch again. She closed her eyes, but Phillip wasn't too concerned this time. She seemed to be getting better rather than worse, at this point. He smiled and brushed a few hairs behind her ear.

"Happy Halloween, sleeping beauty."


	31. Hercules, November 1

**XXXI.** Hercules, November 1

* * *

Hercules felt like his head was about to split right in half. He rolled over onto his back and groaned as his eyelids were bombarded with a bright light. He put his arm over his eyes and squinted.

"Gooood morning, sunshine!" Shang sing-songed, crouching in front of Hercules, who was sprawled out, his limbs dangling over the edges of the small chaise lounge. "Time to get up for school."

"Go away, Shang," Hercules grumbled, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and covering his face with it.

"It's Monday morning, Herc, you gotta get ready," Shang said. "I can't have any of my team members being absent if I can help it."

Hercules heard a groan from across the room, a shifting of fabric and then a thud accompanied by a girlish squeal. He moved the pillow from one eye and squinted. Mulan had fallen off of the couch. Hercules couldn't remember much more than fragments from the night before, but he wondered how Mulan had gotten the couch and he had been delegated the less spacious lounge. The trio had gone to Jasmine's party together, with Shang as the designated driver. Originally, Shang was going to take both Mulan and Herc home after the party. Hercules couldn't remember when or why the plan had changed.

"What happened last night?" Hercules asked, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"It was really late when we left the party," Shang said. "You two were both too drunk to go home and I figured you could just crash here."

"My dad wouldn't care," Hercules snorted. "Heck, he'd get drunk with me."

"Yeah, well, Mulan's parents would."

"Shit!" Mulan said, finally sitting up on the ground and fumbling with her cell phone. "27 missed calls."

"What are you going to—" Shang began.

"Sh-h," Mulan shushed him. "Shut up for a second, both of you."

She had the phone pressed to her ear and was looking panicked.

"Yeah? Hi—no—stop stop—I'm sorry, yes—no—" Mulan sighed and paused to listen for a moment. "No, listen—at Rapunzel's house—we were watching a movie and we all fell asleep—yes, I'm sorry. Sorry. It won't. No. Yes, I'll be fine. I have to—Mom, I have to go get ready to go to school now. Yes. I'll see you tonight. No. Ugh. Okay. Love you."

She hung up and glared at Shang and Hercules.

"Rapunzel's?" Hercules raised an eyebrow as he stood and stretched.

"Well, I wouldn't live to see another day if she knew I was here," Mulan said. "My parents still think I'm in kindergarten, basically. They didn't even want me to join the football team—god knows what they'd do if they knew I was dating."

She pushed herself up off the ground.

"Well, I'm glad you are," Shang said, walking over to her and nuzzling her nose.

"I'm glad I am too," Mulan giggled, and Shang kissed her.

Hercules made fake gagging noises.

"Get me out of here," he joked. "I'm going to go take a shower and leave you lovebirds alone—cool?"

"Mm-hm," Shang said, though Hercules had a feeling he wasn't really listening.

* * *

It _really _did not help that he had Phys Ed with Mr. Shan first block. Mr. Shan was a ruthless drill sergeant-type gym teacher who expected top notch physical form from all his students, and set even more impossibly high expectations for those who happened to be athletes. The class always began with Mr. Shan having the entire class run five laps around the perimeter of the gymnasium. Hercules could only finish two laps before he had to jog out to the water fountain in the hall. He felt dehydrated and fatigued. When he skipped back up to the gym doors, Mr. Shan's hulking figure awaited him.

"Mr. Touolympou," he boomed, butchering the pronunciation of Herc's last name. "Slacking off, are you?"

"No, sir," Hercules said.

"What do you call this then?"

"I just needed a drink of water—I'm not feeling very well today. Sir."

"Ah, I see," Mr. Shan said, crossing his arms with disapproval. "Had a little too much fun last night, did we?"

Hercules ignored the question, "May I go finish my laps now, sir?"

"Start them over," Mr. Shan said, moving to let Hercules through the door. "I expect five more laps from you, right now. No breaks this time."

"Yes, sir," Hercules huffed, and jogged out into the gymnasium.

When he finished the laps, he sat with the rest of the class to stretch as Mr. Shan took attendance.

"You at that party last night?"

Hercules turned to see who was asking the question. He recognized Flynn Ryder—they had met before. Herc remembered Flynn was a senior who had tried out for the football team.

"Yeah, I was," Herc said quietly back.

"Hangover?" Flynn whispered.

"Yep," Herc said, stretching his arms to reach for his toe.

"Ah," Flynn said. "I feel you there."

"You too?" Hercules asked.

"Not this time," Flynn said. "But having one in this class is the worst fate ever."

"You're telling me," Hercules said. "Mr. Shan can tell and he's got it out for me."

"That's rough," Flynn said. "But it won't be too much longer. Good luck, man."

"Thanks."

* * *

Football practice was essentially a repeat of gym class. Hercules did poorly relative to his usual performance, Captain Hook gave him a harder time than usual, things were miserable.

"Come on, you miserable scallywag!" Hook shouted in his typically colorful language. "We aren't going to win us a championship with a weak link like yourself, ye' scurvy bastard. We won't even get the chance if you perform like this in the semi-finals, so _come on_!"

Overall, the team was doing exceptionally well this year—better than the WDHS team had done in decades, in fact. They might even get the chance to compete in the championship this year, and that was a huge monstrous deal. The whole community was brimming with excitement and the team's winning games frequently made front page news in the local paper the next day. The all-star team was getting noticed, especially since one of its key members was female. Despite Hook's current ravings, there wasn't a weak link in the lineup. They were all strong players. Gaston had been replaced, of course, and his replacement was an affable senior named Kenai Atertak. Kenai had never played for the school's team before but he frequently played recreationally and he was quite good. He was probably the least skilled player of the bunch, but he was getting stronger by the day, and he had a clear drive to win and the will to improve exponentially. Each of the other players had their own unique attributes that built up the team to a perfect whole. There was no doubt in Herc's mind, even in his current less-than-stellar condition, that this team could take them all the way to the championship, and win. He laughed to himself. Imagine what a sensation that would be—the championship team and its female MVP.

"What's so funny, smiley?" Hook barked.

Hercules didn't bother to answer. It was a rhetorical question, anyway. He considered to distract himself with his thoughts. Mulan deserved all the attention she would get, he thought. She was a great player and a hard worker—probably the hardest working on the team. She was cunning, too. She always came up with these clever plays and moves that none of the rest of them could have come up with. And of course, Hook would always pretend they were his ideas, but everyone knew where they were coming from. Hercules imagined Mulan on the cover of Sports Illustrated and smiled to himself. Maybe that was a bit grandiose thinking, but it didn't hurt to dream.

"Alright, take five, you bunch of blowfish," Hook barked, and everyone headed for the bleachers or to the water bubbler by the bathrooms.

Hercules was heading towards the bubbler himself when he spotted a girl sitting way up in the stands. He recognized her immediately from her thick mass of curly brown hair. But—it couldn't be, could it? He squinted. He changed paths and jogged over to the bleachers, then climbed up to the top, taking two steps at a time.

"Meg," he said when he got to the top. "I—how are you? I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm okay," she smiled slightly. "I haven't seen you around much really, so…"

"I promised you I'd leave you alone," Hercules said seriously.

"What?" Meg asked, shaking her head and looking at Hercules with confusion.

"One chance, remember?" Hercules said. "I asked for one chance. You gave it to me, and I'm glad you did. But you weren't impressed, and I respect that. I'll admit I was confused after our date, but… you made yourself perfectly clear at the dance. So I won't try anything else. Cross my heart."

"I—" Meg's mouth fell open for a moment, at a loss for words. "I'm sorry I acted that way at the dance. It wasn't right. And I'm sorry I ran away after our date. I was scared. It wasn't fair to you."

"No, I'm sorry," Hercules said. "I shouldn't have pressured you to go on that date with me. You obviously weren't totally comfortable, and that… and I was wrong."

Meg looked at Hercules for a moment, then smiled. "You're different from most guys I've dated."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Hercules said.

"We'll see."

Herc's heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but it seemed pretty hopeful. He liked a bit of hope. Meg didn't say anything else.

"Well, I'd like to be friends, at least," Hercules said. "Can we start over?"

"Sure," Meg said.

"Hi, I'm Hercules," he said, extending his hand.

Meg laughed and took his hand, shaking her head, "Nice to meet you, Hercules."

"Also known as Herc," he said, still shaking her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Or—"

"Wonder Boy," Meg filled in.

"Or Wonder Boy," Herc conceded.

"Nice to meet you, Wonder Boy," Meg said.

"And you are?" Hercules asked genuinely.

"Megara, also known as—"

"Meg?" Hercules said.

"Meg," she agreed. "Or Wonder Girl."

"Wonder Girl!" Hercules said. "How nice it is to meet someone as wonderful as me."

"In your dreams, pal," Meg snorted. "I'm in a whole 'nother league of wonderful from the one you're in."

"Oh, is that so?" Hercules said, putting his leg up on the bench and resting his elbow on his thigh and his chin on his fist. "Well then, I hope I can spend some time with you and maybe absorb some of that wonderfulness—hopefully you can teach me a thing or two about how you manage to be so wonderful."

"I can certainly try," Meg said. "But I require an attentive student. This is a delicate art that requires massive concentration and—dedication!"

"I am your eager student," Hercules said playfully.

A whistle blew down on the field.

"Time's up, lover boy," Hook shouted.

Hercules turned red, "Well, uh—"

"Go," Meg said.

Hercules turned to make his way back down to the field, then he stopped. He turned to Meg and hesitated for a moment.

"Say, um…"

"Yes?"

"We've got this home game on Friday… A pretty big one, actually, it'll decide whether we get into the championship or not. I'd love it if you'd… come watch us win?" Hercules grinned.

"Oh, you're going to win, then?" Meg said, smirking and raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hell yeah," Hercules said confidently. "So you coming?"

"I'll see what I can do," Meg smiled.

* * *

"We're going to win this thing, you know."

"Hm?"

Shang was looking at the inside of his gym locker door. He looked up at Hercules blankly. Everyone else had hurried out and it was just the two of them left over in the locker room.

"The championship," Hercules said. "I have this feeling. I just know. We're going to win."

"Oh," Shang said, nodding, though he didn't look as sure as Hercules felt. "Yeah, we have a solid team this year—really solid. I think we've got a good shot at it."

"No, we're going to win," Hercules said. "And you know why we're going to win?"

"Well, the team's really good—it's maybe the best team the school's ever had, and—"

"More specifically," Hercules said. "We're strong, yeah, but that's not enough."

Hercules walked around to stand behind Shang. He could see now what was distracting Shang in his locker. Hanging inside his locker door was a small school picture of Mulan.

"We're going to win because of _her_," Hercules said, reaching over Shang's shoulder and putting his index finger right on the picture of Mulan.

Shang slammed the door shut.

"A team doesn't win because of one person," Shang said, walking to the bench and tying his shoe. "It's a _team_."

"She's the brains behind the operation!" Hercules said. "Everyone can see it but you."

"What are you trying to say?" Shang asked.

"You're the captain—and she's your _girlfriend_—and you can't even see that she's the best thing this team has going for it right now," Hercules said. "We're all great players, there's no denying that. But her _strategy_—it's incredible. It's like she's been doing this her whole life."

Shang looked peeved.

"Look, Shang," Hercules said. "If we win this thing—who's going to be crowned the MVP?"

"Well—I—"

"Were you thinking yourself?" Hercules asked. "You're a great captain, Shang, but don't be so selfish. Think about who the credit should really go to."

Shang looked at the floor, then stood abruptly. He pushed past Hercules roughly.

"Why don't you leave the thinking to me, Herc?" he said brusquely, then, slinging his bag over his shoulder, slammed the door open and stormed out.

Hercules shook his head, gathering his things together. He just wanted Shang to get his head out of his ass and start seeing things as they really were. Hercules could tell it was hard for Shang to accept the fact that the best member of his team might just be female. God forbid it was his girlfriend. Hercules not only wanted to save the team dynamic—he also wanted to save Shang's relationship. Not that it was in any trouble _now_, but Hercules knew it couldn't last forever if Shang didn't learn to appreciate Mulan and all her awesomeness.

Hercules had spent a lot of time thinking about women lately. Just in general, and one in particular, of course. He realized respect needed to be the number one priority—and giving credit where credit was due was also a major plus. He admitted that he, in the past, had thought of women as inferior. He hadn't intentionally had these thoughts, but it was so ingrained in him socially, that he felt a sense of entitlement. How _dare _Meg not give him a little bit of attention? But now he realized what was wrong with his previous line of thinking, and he knew that in order for their co-ed team to be successful, Herc had to make sure that the rest of the team was on the same wavelength as him. Most of the team members seemed to share his understanding. The only challenge now was Shang.


	32. Flynn, November 4

**XXXII.** Flynn, November 4

* * *

Flynn and Lottie walked out of the front door of the school together, far behind the typical rush of students hurrying to make their buses and be the first out of the parking lot. Lottie's father was picking her up in his large, shiny Hummer and Flynn, of course, had his own car waiting in the parking lot. Lottie was glowing, Flynn had noticed. It was fairly well known throughout the school that Naveen had broken things off with Lottie, and on Halloween, no less. Flynn had heard Pocahontas whispering about it to Tarzan and Jane in their art class on Monday, just moments before Lottie had slumped in to the classroom. Everyone had their own particular opinions about it, and it was the subject of some gossip, though it was largely overshadowed by some of the other major dramatic events of the night. On Monday, Lottie had seemed devastated. Usually perky and perfectly put together, she had been clearly put off by the event, badly dressed with poorly applied makeup and frizzy hair. It hadn't taken long for her to bounce back, and now she was her usual excited self, back to flirting with every cute guy that crossed her path. It was harmless, and Flynn didn't mind that kind of attention, as most guys don't.

"Oh, there's Daddy now," Lottie said with a laugh as her father gave the horn a quick toot. "I'd better be off then… See you tomorrow, sweetums!"

"Bye, Lottie," Flynn laughed. The two had sat together in Fine Art ever since they had been paired together at the beginning, and he enjoyed her company. Spending time listening to her fervent chatter was always a nice way to end the day. Admittedly, it had taken a bit of getting used to. At first, Flynn was even mildly irritated by her gusto. It didn't take too long for him to learn to love it, though.

He made his way towards the short pathway down to the car park, but something caught his attention. There was someone sitting on a bench by the flagpole. Her pastel purple and yellow backpack sat next to the petite brunette and she had her head rested on her knees. Flynn cautiously moved towards her a little and, listening, could hear small, quiet sobs. He slowly approached, but the girl didn't lift her head—he wasn't sure she even noticed that he was there.

"Hey—you okay?" Flynn asked, putting a hand on the anonymous girl's shoulder.

"Yes—yes, I'm, I'm—" the girl lifted her head, wiping at tears that had dripped down her nose. "_You_."

"Rapunzel?" Flynn was as surprised as she was.

"What are you _doing _here?" Rapunzel asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, I happen to go to school here, too, I'll have you know," Flynn said, standing up straight and crossing his arms—he was beginning to regret ever investigating this situation.

"No, I mean _here_," Rapunzel gestured around her to the bench and the flagpole.

"I see a girl crying, what am I supposed to do?" Flynn asked. "But I can see now that you're just fine, so I'll be on my—"

Rapunzel suddenly broke back down into heaving sobs. Flynn instantly flipped back into concern mode. He crouched down in front of her, looking at her with sympathy. He had no idea what the problem was, but it must be serious for her to be this upset.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Flynn asked, putting a hand out and rubbing her arm comfortingly.

"I—I—" Rapunzel stammered, unable to finish her sentence as she was consistently cut off by her own sobbing.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," Flynn said. "Just tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help."

"I—missed my bus," Rapunzel said, and put her head back down on her knees, sobbing again.

"That—that's it?" Flynn asked, eyebrows raised.

Rapunzel nodded without lifting her head. Strange. Flynn didn't think Rapunzel seemed like the overly sensitive type. This was certainly a major overreaction to something as simple as missing one's bus. But, he thought, it wasn't his place to judge. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe this was just the cherry on top of the Worst Day Ever. He couldn't possibly know what hell she'd been through that day. But he could try to make it better.

"Hey, that's no big deal," Flynn said soothingly. "I can fix that—I'll drive you home. No worries, see?"

"Really?" Rapunzel asked, sniffling, as she lifted her head from her lap.

"Yeah, of course," Flynn said, waving it away casually, then reached forward and wiped the tears from Rapunzel's cheeks. "It's no problem at all."

He took her by the hand and led her to his pickup. She had stopped crying almost immediately when he offered her the ride. Maybe that was all there was to it. Flynn was glad to have another opportunity to try to impress Rapunzel, though he was a bit concerned. He wasn't sure he could handle a girl as emotionally volatile as Rapunzel seemed to be. If she got that upset over a missed bus, what could dating her be like? Would she break down over a delayed text message? Fall into a depression if he looked at another girl? But Flynn felt he was getting ahead of himself. It was a ride home, after all, not a date.

Rapunzel didn't say anything as they got into the car or drove off down the road. Flynn remembered where she lived from last time, so he didn't have to ask, but he didn't like the silence of the car.

"So… what have you been up to lately?" Flynn asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Not much," Rapunzel said, twiddling her thumbs.

"Not much," Flynn repeated, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "So um… you in any clubs or anything?"

"Mm… nope," Rapunzel said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Flynn said, dragging the word out. "Okay then. How about… Halloween! There's something! What did you do for Halloween?"

Rapunzel immediately broke down into weepy snuffles once again. Flynn lost control of the wheel for a moment, accidentally swerving to the side.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—what—what did I say?" Flynn asked, looking back and forth between Rapunzel and the road.

A strip mall was coming up so he pulled into the parking lot and parked in an isolated corner near an empty storefront. He looked at Rapunzel quizzically. She was now once again bawling into her sleeve.

"Rapunzel—Rapunzel," he tried to get her attention. "What's wrong? You can tell me. I know this can't be about the bus thing."

"I—I don't want to talk about it," Rapunzel said.

"Well, you don't have to," Flynn said. "And I won't force you. But it's obvious you have something that you're keeping bottled up. You'll feel better if you tell _someone_—it doesn't have to be me. Just anyone. But I hate to see you so upset. Have you told anyone what's bothering you?"

"No," Rapunzel said tearfully.

"I'm here if you want to tell me," Flynn said. "But if you don't, that's okay too. Just know that my lips are sealed if you want them to be."

Rapunzel looked at Flynn and he felt like he had earned a few points there. Her gaze now seemed more friendly than it ever had before and he felt like maybe she was about to open up. Even if not, he had definitely broken through some kind of barrier here. They sat in silence for a few more moments.

"It's… my mom," Rapunzel finally blurted.

She went on to tell Flynn about how her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. She told him how she hadn't told any of her friends about what was going on. She hadn't wanted to burden them with the news because she knew it was heavy stuff. She didn't want to be the "depressing one." She didn't want to make anyone else be sad because she didn't think doing so would make _her _any less sad. Her mother went in for treatment on Halloween. Her parents told her she should go and do something else—hang out with her friends and take her mind off of things—but she wasn't interested. She promised her mother she would always be there through her treatments, and she planned to stick to that. So instead of going to a party or handing out candy with friends, Rapunzel was in the hospital on Halloween.

"And that's why… I started crying when you asked," Rapunzel said, throwing her hands down in defeat. "I—I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," Flynn said. He had been listening intently and filling in the gaps in Rapunzel's story with comforting words. Now he felt bad for making assumptions earlier, and realized how strong Rapunzel was. He saw her all the time at school, and she was always so composed. It was incredible considering what she was going through.

"I'm sorry for… telling you all this," Rapunzel said, pushing her hair back. "I don't even know I am, I just can't stop my mouth from going on at this point. But… yeah… sorry… I know it's not your burden to bear."

"Hey… stop," Flynn said, reaching forward and turning Rapunzel's head gently with his hand so she was looking at him. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

Rapunzel gave him a weak smile, but he knew it was sincere. She was just tired.

"Can I… show you something?" Flynn asked.

Rapunzel looked puzzled, "Like what?"

"It's a surprise," Flynn said. "But you won't regret it."

"Okay," Rapunzel said hesitantly, though she looked skeptical.

"Great," Flynn said.

He pulled out onto the road and drove the car in the general direction of Rapunzel's neighborhood but then, about a half a mile before reaching it, turned onto a winding residential road that led up a hill. This neighborhood was very lush and the road was the steepest in town. As they drove a little bit further, there were fewer houses and more trees. Finally, as the road started to level off, Flynn pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car. He came around to the passenger side and opened the door for Rapunzel.

"Where are we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Come on, I'll show you," Flynn said. "It's better if you just see it."

He offered Rapunzel a hand getting out of the truck and she took it. Then he brought her a little way's over to a clearing in the trees.

"Wow," Rapunzel said quietly, taking a couple steps forward into the cleared area.

From where they were standing, they seemed to be able to see the entire town. They were at the top of a hill that stood high above most of the familiar neighborhoods. A slightly weathered but sturdy-looking bench sat overlooking everything.

"What is this place?" Rapunzel asked.

"I've come here a couple times already since I moved," Flynn said. "I drove around town a lot trying to figure things out. I think this is the highest point in Marceline. You can see everything from here. You can even see a little bit of Buena Vista over there."

He leaned in towards Rapunzel and pointed his finger in the direction where the edge of LCU's campus was just barely visible.

"Cool," Rapunzel said dreamily, walking over and taking a seat on the bench.

Flynn came over and sat next to her.

"You like it, then?" he asked.

"I love it," Rapunzel said, and he knew she meant it. "You know, my mom—she's okay. I mean, she has cancer, yeah, but for now… for now everything is okay. It's really uncertain, but you know, it's… I need to stop talking about this. It's all I think about, so now that I know that you know, I just… blah."

"It's okay," Flynn assured her. "I'll listen. But if you want a distraction we can talk about something else."

"Like what?" Rapunzel smiled at him.

"Like… hmm…" Flynn thought for a few moments, looking over the town. "Well, you wanna know a secret?"

"Sure," Rapunzel said, giggling a little bit.

Flynn exhaled deeply. He could feel his heart pounding—he was nervous. This conversation could go either way, really.

"My name isn't Flynn Rider," he said.

"What?!" Rapunzel said, but she didn't sound upset or angry—she laughed as if it was one of the most ridiculous things she'd ever heard. "What do you mean?"

"Flynn Rider isn't my name," he repeated. "I mean, it's what I go by in school and everything, but… I… it's not the name I was born with."

"Well, what was, then?" Rapunzel asked with increasing interest.

"You have to promise not to laugh," Flynn said, looking at Rapunzel seriously.

"I won't laugh," Rapunzel said just as seriously, and drew an "x" over her chest with her finger.

"Okay," Flynn took a deep breath. "Eugene Fitzherbert. That's my name."

"That's it?" Rapunzel asked, looking disappointed.

"What's wrong with it?" Flynn said.

"Nothing!" Rapunzel said, putting her hands on his arm to reassure him. "There's nothing wrong with it at all, it's a lovely name. I just… I don't know… I was expecting something more… more…"

"What were you expecting it to be?" Flynn asked.

"Something ridiculous," Rapunzel said. "Like… I don't know. Jar Jar Dinglehopper."

"If my name was Jar Jar Dinglehopper, you would have my permission to laugh," Flynn said, chuckling himself.

"Good, because I don't think I would be able to stop myself," Rapunzel said, giggling a little. "But you shouldn't be ashamed of Eugene—it's a nice name. It's cute. I think it suits you better—I like it a lot more than Flynn."

"You're the first, then," Flynn sighed.

"Why did you start calling yourself Flynn?" Rapunzel asked.

"I just didn't want to be Eugene," Flynn said, shrugging. "Flynn Rider seemed like a more exciting person, and that's what I wanted to be. So I thought when I came here I could reinvent myself. I decided everyone here would get to know the charming, dashing Flynn Rider—no more Eugene Fitzherbert."

"I can't speak for anyone else, but if _this _is Eugene Fitzherbert…" she poked him in the chest for emphasis. "…then I _much _prefer him. He's very sweet. Flynn Rider's kind of a jerk."

"Well, both Flynn Rider and Eugene Fitzherbert like you a lot," Flynn said, smiling. "They might have to fight about it."

"Tell Flynn Rider he can't have me," Rapunzel said, then cuddled up under Flynn's arm and looked out over Marceline. "But his secret is safe with me."

"Does Eugene Fitzherbert have a shot?" Flynn asked, bringing his arm down and resting his hand on Rapunzel's shoulder.

"Maybe."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Hope you enjoy! I've had a bit more free time than usual (midterms are coming up so I'll call this the "calm before the storm"), so you get two chapters in one week! Think of it as my apology for not updating since October. I wanted to clarify something... In my last author's note I said some things about the number of Disney high school fics and I subsequently got a lot of reviews commenting on this fact. Thank you for all the support! But I think there was a little misunderstanding about what I was trying to say. I wasn't knocking those other fics. I don't read them (I rarely read fic) so I can't speak to their merits. I was only trying to say that when I see so many, I think that the market for this is already filled and my place is unnecessary (though your encouraging words made me feel otherwise). Still, I would never want to discourage anyone from writing what they want to write. Also, I don't think it is necessary to put others down. If you want to tell me that generally you think mine is the best Disney high school fic, then thank you very much. I am extremely flattered by these reviews. However, I don't think it's very kind to say "your fic is better than [x fic]." I completely understand why my author's note prompted such comments, but it is not what I was looking for. I can understand completely that the intentions of those reviewers who said such things were good and that they were only trying to encourage me, but I think it is possible to do so without making remarks about others. We FanFiction readers and writers should be a tight-knit, friendly, welcoming community. If you don't like a certain fic, that's completely okay - but there's no need to say anything about it. Just concentrate on the things you love and try to focus on that. Okay?_

_In other news, I may go through and reread/proofread all the previous chapters before continuing on. I lost a lot of my notes back when my hard drive crashed (between writing chapters 26 and 27) and not having those notes is part of what has slowed me down a lot in adding new chapters. It will also help to have my memory completely refreshed. Plus with new notes, I'll be able to write chapters more quickly! So it may be a little while before you see chapter 33, but no worries - with any luck, it shouldn't be nearly as long as the wait between 30 and 31._

_Also - new cover - ack! Do you like it? Does anyone even notice covers? I thought this one was a lot simpler and more fitting to the way covers are used on this site. I created the old one when the feature was just rolled out, so I didn't realize how small everything was going to appear. I think this one is cleaner. Thoughts? Anyone?_

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you thought, whether you're an old reader or a new one. All of you are wonderful. Don't ever forget it._


	33. Note to Readers

My dearest readers,

I cannot begin to apologize to you all for the appalling length of time since my last update, and I feel I owe you all an explanation. My review email notifications were somehow accidentally turned off, so I didn't realize anyone still cared about this silly thing. I just got through reading all the lovely (and some not-so-lovely) reviews from the past year, and it made my heart hurt that I left so many people hanging but it also made me glad that my stories could bring some temporary joy into your lives.

As it is, I've been working for Disney. I don't feel comfortable revealing publicly my exact line of business, but yesterday marked my year anniversary with the company. Since I started working here, I've been able to achieve everything I've wanted to accomplish with the company so far step-by-step. Dreams really so come true sometimes. At this time, I am working full time and have a fairly busy schedule outside of work, so I have had absolutely no time to write, which was previously one of my favorite hobbies.

That being said, my goal going forward is to try to set aside some time for writing in the future, because it is something that gives me great pleasure and I do want to continue telling this story, given that I put so much time and effort into the planning of it all those years ago. I make no promises on the frequency of my future updates, because I don't want to disappoint again, but I will do my best to get some more chapters posted for you all at some point within the next few months.

I welcome you to pester me about this until I follow through.

Yours,

Ms. Sherlock


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